


Light of the Love That I Found

by fourdrunksluts



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Fingering, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Riding, Sexual Tension, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:42:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22044280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourdrunksluts/pseuds/fourdrunksluts
Summary: "You ever just feel alone?”It’s a tricky question, in all honesty. The truth is, Calum doesn’t really feel alone at all. When he was younger, he was much sadder, much more lonely. When Mali went away for uni and Ashton got his first job, Calum was left on his own more often than not, always aching for somebody to be with. Now, though, he has far more people in his life. He has Luke, Ashton, the brothers - a whole house of guys that aren’t afraid to hug him when he’s down. But most of all, the one thing stopping Calum from feeling alone is Mikey. They’ve been insanely close for the past three years, side by side in a ridiculous amount of pranks and parties and talks and… Calum’s never alone. Not when he has the most important person in his life always within arms distance.“Sometimes, yeah,” he lies.-Michael's life is absolutely perfect. He has everything he could ever want in the world and the love of his life on his arm. The only problem is that his best friend's name isn't the one that's tattooed on his ass.
Relationships: Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin, Michael Clifford/Calum Hood
Comments: 15
Kudos: 119





	Light of the Love That I Found

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from _Fool in the Rain_ by Led Zeppelin

**~ C A L U M ~**

Nicknames stick. 

When Calum was fourteen and high off of the excitement of no longer being a middle school student, he snuck out of the house just after his parents had gone to bed, stole his older sister's pink and orange scooter and rode it the three miles across town just to light off fire crackers with Ashton. Ashton's stepdad had called him "Scooter" every time he visited for the next year, and as time went on, everyone else joined him. 

It's been seven years since then, he's graduated high school and moved on to higher education, and the nickname came along every step of the way. Nowadays, he only ever hears his  _ actual _ name when he's annoyed someone.

Lucky for him, he joined a fraternity - Zeta Psi - and frat guys fucking  _ love _ nicknames. Calum's just happy he joined with a name already set for him so he didn't end up with a shit one decided by his brothers. Ashton's still sometimes dealing with the aftermath of when TJ called him Limp Dick their freshman year. Scooter doesn't seem so bad in comparison - even if it  _ is _ ridiculous. 

Altogether, despite the immaturity and constant insults, being in a frat isn't as disgusting as media made it seem growing up. There's a lot of networking that goes on with professionals in their desired fields of work and they're making bonds for life. Sure, they party too much, and maybe there's a small feud going on between them and Delta Gamma, but it's all in good fun, and they're good about giving back to their community. Calum wouldn't give his time in the frat for anything. Without it, he wouldn't be who he is today. 

And he wouldn't know Mikey. 

When Calum was fifteen, he woke up with his soulmark - just like everybody else does - and was completely unsurprised and unimpressed to see the name  _ Michael _ etched into the crease of his thigh. He had figured his soulmate would be a dude, but the generic and popular element of the name was frustrating. Despite his mom's insistence that having the name in such an intimate place meant his relationship with his soulmate would be in a league of its own, incomparable and unparalleled, Calum still wasn't convinced. 

At the time, he'd already known six Michael's. It's been five years and he's only managed to meet more along the way. 

  
  


**~ M I C H A E L ~**

Nicknames stick. 

When Michael was born, his parents chose a simple, popular name for him. It'd been something they'd thought about for weeks leading up to the decision, and Michael still wonders why they went with something so absolutely  _ boring _ . 

It wasn't until Michael was two that Daryl started to realize that he'd named his son something that half the population had done as well, and he started referring to him as Mikey. It's been nineteen years since then, and it's used more than his full name to get his attention. The only time he's actually called Michael is when he's being annoying. 

It really came in handy when he joined the fraternity and there were already three Michael's- Mike, Mickey, and Michael. Besides, frat brothers love nicknames. It's part of the reason Michael's glad he's glad he came with one in tow. He'd hate to go through a period like Ashton, who's still sometimes called Limp Dick as a throwback to freshman year. 

At fifteen years old, just like the rest of the world, Michael got his soulmark. Unlike everybody else, it took him a solid two hours to scour his body and find it, but when he finally did, he fell in love with the delicate scrawl of  _ Calum _ … But not until he lost his shit laughing first. 

His soulmark was there, in all its glory, on his  _ ass _ . When he was fifteen, that was absolutely hilarious, and it's only gotten funnier along the way. 

  
  


**~ C A L U M ~**

Junior year starts with a bang. Or at least, that's the plan. 

It's the morning before classes start and Calum's staring up at the ceiling in the room he's shared with Mikey for the past three years. Tonight the frat has their annual "Jump the Boat" party where they celebrate getting back to classes - before they  _ actually _ get back to classes. It's going to be fucking incredible, Calum can already tell. He and Mikey have plans to fuck this year up in the best way possible, and it starts tonight with as many shots as Calum can convince Mikey to take before he gets sick. 

After he's been laying in silence for a solid twenty minutes, Calum decides he's sick of being on his own and tosses a pillow across the room, the fabric sliding roughly across his roommate's face. Mikey sits up, eyes barely open, with a red circle on his cheek from where he'd been leaning on his hand for the night. His hair is wild and soft, and his lips are pale pink. Calum wants to kiss him more than he wants to breathe. 

"Morning, fucker!" He chooses to yell instead of act on his thoughts or profess his feelings. 

Mikey blinks, fist coming up to rub gently at his eye. He yawns halfway through, testing Calum's strength in not letting himself  _ coo _ . "What time is it?"

"Time to suck my dick," he says. It's stupid, frat boy humor, something that's so stereptypical of the roles they hold, but it's unexpected enough to have Mikey laughing, even being confused by the morning, giggles tumbling from his mouth. 

"Fuck off." 

Calum knows he's being weird, just staring at his best friend and roommate, but it's hard to look at anything else when there's an actual work of art sitting on the bed across from his, sleepy and confused and soft as all hell. It's only when Mikey starts to look more aware of his surroundings that Calum realizes he shouldn't start off the day by waxing poetic about Mikey - it's a dangerous slope down when he doesn't practice caution- so he starts to look for flaws, an impossible task, and can only chuckle when he sees how messy Mikey's hair is. 

Mikey catches on to the laughter quickly, frowning when he turns to see Calum staring at him. "What? What’s so funny?"

"Your hair, bro," Calums tells him honestly. "Looks like Tails from Sonic." 

He glares, but it doesn't look threatening or in any way  _ bad _ . He looks like an angry kitten, soft, fluffy, and upset in a sweet way, and it makes Calum laugh even harder at the poor attempt. Before he can catch his breath, Mikey gets out of bed, launching himself into Calum's, on top of him, thighs bracketing his waist. He immediately starts throwing punches - barely there light ones that hardly touch Calum’s skin, let alone hurt - and Calum struggles to grab his wrists. 

It’s a smart attack, Calum will admit, but it’s a bit shit when he doesn’t protect himself, leaving Calum space to hook his arm around Mikey’s neck, dragging him down into a noogy, fist twisting Mikey’s hair into an even worse sculpture of what it was before. 

“Try and fix it now, dipshit,” he laughs. Mikey pushes him away easily, but the pout on his face is contradicted by the spark in his eyes. 

“Maybe I'll use all the hot water. Make you take a cold shower to deflate the dick in your personality.” 

Knowing that he can’t think of anything clever, anything that doesn’t have the words ‘dude’ or ‘bro’ used at least twice, Calum just stands up, knocking Mikey on the carpet. He makes to run to the bathroom. But a fist latches around his ankle and  _ pulls _ , yanking him to the ground. Mikey’s maniacal laugh rings in his ear before he’s getting up and trying to get in front of Calum, only making it to the door. Calum slips his hands around Mikey’s waist, holding him still in the door frame, as his hand comes down to slap his ass twice. Mikey yelps, and Calum takes the chance to slip into the hall. 

“Fuck  _ off _ , Scooter,” Mikey shouts, but he’s giggling, and everything is amazing. 

It’s been three years of being best friends and roommates, and every day gets better. There’s an underlying current of tension constantly between them that only seems to fuel the way they play off of each other. They’re both aware of their feelings for each other, but nobody makes a move, and somehow, someway, it’s magic. 

Calum realizes the trickiness of having his soulmate be named Michael, and having Mikey right there, but  _ Calum _ is a different enough name that Mikey would’ve pointed it out to him the moment they met. They aren’t meant to be together in that way, but their friendship is enough. 

But sometimes, when their arms are around each others shoulders and they're running down the halls together, play-fighting over who gets first dibs on the shower, Calum has to wonder "what if?" 

  
  


**~ M I C H A E L ~**

It's been three years of being best friends with Scooter and nothing’s getting old. They chose each other as roommates during pledging and it was the best decision Michael thinks he's ever made. Every morning he wakes up, excited to start the day, and every night he goes to sleep, content in his bed, just five feet from his best friend in the entire world. 

When Michael thinks about his future, it's incredibly Scooter heavy. He can see himself spending the rest of his life wanting to tell Scooter about the highs and lows of his day, of calling Scooter whenever he sees a cute puppy on the street or finds a dollar in the dryer. This is a friendship, a  _ bond _ , that's going to outlive their days in the fraternity. 

Hell, there are some nights when Michael wishes they could be soulmates. Even now, fighting with Scooter over who gets the first turn in the shower on the floor, shoving at each other, he can see them falling easily in love. 

Hell, he knows they're both five-eighths of the way there. 

There's been more than a few passing comments over how weirdly close the two of them are, but it truly never matters to Michael because it's not insulting - it's a glimpse into a world where Michael and Scooter can live happily together. It's a teasing insight to a place where they're more than just good together, it's where they're  _ perfect _ together. And though it isn't true, though it can't be, it doesn't stop Michael from craving a life where and Scooter can be together. But they can't because they aren't soulmates. 

Because Michael's looking for Calum. 

  
  


**~ C A L U M ~**

In the morning, more than half the campus will have their first class of the semester, so the frat is celebrating properly tonight. Calum’s been walking around for the past two hours hugging familiar faces that he hasn’t seen in months, accepting drinks as they’re handed to him and toasting to a great year. They’ve still got a whole other year after this one, but everybody is drinking like they’ll never get the chance to again. It’s every bit the fraternity mindset that everyone often accuses them of - though seeing the Zeta Psi house tonight, Calum can’t say he blames them. 

From where he’s leaning against the living room wall, Calum can see Mikey surrounded by a crowd of people, all laughing at something he’s saying - drawn into him like anyone with half a brain cell should be. Calum always feels a pull towards his best friend, like there’s a rope between them, taught and ready to snap at any moment. Even though separately they’re both having a good night - enjoying the music and telling stories within different groups of people, Calum wants to do nothing more than slide across the room and throw his arms around Mikey, claiming him as Calum’s as though he has any right. 

It’s for that reason that Calum turns the other way and heads into the kitchen, completely abandoning any desire building in his drunken brain of pushing too hard at the narrow wall between friendship and more that’s standing in front of Mikey and Calum. It’s a gentle ecosystem they have, and one stupid move could have the wall falling down, only to be covered up by their discarded clothes, completely hidden as though it never existed. 

It isn’t worth the risk. 

At the far end of the kitchen, leaning against one side of the counter, a half-empty bag of Doritos in his cheese-covered hands, as he stares at where Luke, TJ, and Kevin are taking shots by the fridge, is Ashton. He doesn’t look lonely, never looks out of his element, but Calum recognizes the heated edge to his gaze and figures messing with his childhood best friend is far more productive than destroying the boundaries he holds with Mikey. 

“Don’t you think it’s time to make a move?” He asks, sliding around the counter and joining his snacking friend. “Been, what, three years now?”

“Fuck off, Scooter,” Ashton bites. It’s not nearly as threatening as it could be - his black and yellow snapback sliding back a bit too far on his head, making him look as sloppy as someone like Ashton Irwin can be. 

“It’s really easy,” Calum continues as though Ashton never spoke at all. “You just walk up to him, say his name, and then eat his ass on the kitchen floor.”

With an appreciative hum, Ashton swallows the chip in his mouth and agrees, “He does have a nice ass.”

“He  _ does _ .” There’s a silent moment between them, both of them staring at where Luke’s ass is perfectly curved from his spine in his tight, shiny pants. He’s laughing along to something TJ’s saying, and Calum feels an urge to start a fire. He leans forward and yells, “You got a fat ass, Luke Hemmings.” 

Luke looks up at the shout, smile lighting up his pretty face when he sees it was Calum that cat called him. He raises his glass up, tongue falling sloppily out of his mouth, and then downs his shot. Calum can’t help to giggle at his friend’s silliness, but Ashton sits stoic, lips pursed between the Doritos he’s shoving in his mouth. 

“Who?”

The story of Luke and Ashton is a fragile one, a game of tiptoe between the two. They realized they were soulmates when Luke was pledging with Calum and Mikey, Ashton already having been a brother in the frat for a year. As the brothers were introducing themselves to the rushes, Luke unwelcomly stepped forward after hearing Ashton’s name, his own shy response of “ _ My name’s Luke _ ,” falling out from behind his tacky lip ring. 

Ashton, not wanting to disrupt the rushing process just nodded, telling Luke to get back in line and not interrupt. To this day, he still refuses to admit it was a dick move, saying he did what he had to as a brother to the frat. After that, Luke was too embarrassed to reinitiate the introductions, and Ashton was too headstrong to take the first step. It’s been three years of this nonsense, and now it’s like a challenge between the two, the sexual and romantic tension building between them as they try to make the other acknowledge the status of their soulbond first. 

“You’re so fucking annoying, man,” Calum tells Ashton honestly. “Everything you’ll ever need is over there in leather pants and a choker.” He’ll never understand why their pride is more important than being happy together, but… It’s an ideal they both seem to share, so that’s probably why they’re soulmate’s with each other and not somebody more romantic like Calum. 

He’d fool himself a million times for somebody he loved. 

“He  _ could _ be everything I’ll ever need,” Ashton considers, “if only I knew his name.”

“It’s Luke.”

Ashton frowns, his left hand slapping against his ear and rubbing at a furious pace. “This music is so loud,” he shouts, voice suddenly echoing in the large kitchen. “I can hardly hear a thing.”

It’s so obnoxiously Ashton that Calum doesn’t hesitate to give into his urge to punch his shoulder. “I’m gonna leave you to pine for your boy.”

“Wish I had a boy,” Ashton sighs, his voice picking up as Calum rolls his eyes and makes to walk away. “Wish I had a boy with a name on my body… shame. It’s a shame I’m all alone.” 

Not regarding Ashton’s melodramatics with a response, Calum makes his way out of the kitchen, giving a very obvious pat to Luke’s back as he does, smiling when he’s met with a giggle in return. He wants to head down to the basement and see if Chad or Rob are up for a game of pong, but he’s stopped by an eager shout of “Scooter!” followed by the rest of the group Mikey’s standing with eagerly shouting alongside him. It’d be a dick move to ignore them, so Calum let’s himself grin, ending up looking more natural when he meets Mikey’s eyes across the room.

“That’s my name!” He yells back, sliding effortlessly in between Mikey and PJ, throwing his arm around Mikey’s shoulder. “What are we all talking about?”

There’s a girl across him in the circle wearing a Chi Omega hoodie who eagerly speaks up to fill Calum in. “Mikey was just telling us about when he broke into a barn this summer.”

“Scooter was there too!” Mikey’s hand comes down in the center of his chest excitedly. “It was sick. Tell them about the key.” 

“This makes me sound like such a dick, bro,” Calum smirks as Mikey giggles. “I stopped at this gas station in the middle of fucking nowhere on my way into town and heard some girls talking about this haunted barn - ”

Mikey cuts him off but jumping up and down once. “I knew exactly where it was. I knew what he was talking about.”

“Yeah. They had this key and set it down for a minute, so I swiped it.” Mikey shoves his shoulder like he’s disagreeing with Calum’s course of action, like he didn’t actively cheer this story with a “ _ Scooter, yes! _ ” when he’d heard it the first time around. “Look, it was a quick move. I didn’t think about it at first. I shouldn’t have done it.” 

“But you  _ did _ , man.”

“Of course I did.” The corner of Calum’s mouth tilts up, aware that he looks like a stereotypical frat douchebag - smirking as he tells a story about breaking into a building, snapback backwards on his head and a hot piece of ass around his arm. Sure, in most media depictions of fraternities, the hot piece of ass is usually a girl, but Zeta Psi doesn’t discriminate, and there’s not a piece of ass hotter than Michael Clifford on this planet. “You would have too, dipfuck.” 

Not disagreeing, Mikey just leans into Calum’s body, fitting like a soft, warm puzzle piece, effortlessly sliding into his life. 

“So you guys broke in?” another girl asks. She’s not wearing a sorority shirt, but Calum’s almost certain she’s in Chi Omega as well. 

“Course they did,” Adam speaks up for them a few people over. He’s grinning and his eyes are glazed over, clearly already fucking gone. “Mikey and Scooter are  _ insane _ . Freshman year they broke into Delta Gamma and put a thousand cups of gatorade down their hallway in the middle of the night.” 

Through his few slurred words, Calum manages to understand the gist of what he’s saying, but it takes a few seconds to really recognize what story is being talked about. When he does, he completely loses his composure, arm slipping free from Mikey’s shoulder as he bends over in laughter. 

“ _ Fuck _ .” Mikey’s voice is full of awe, but Calum can’t stop laughing at the memory of delicately placing all those fucking plastic cups in the hallway and filling them with the energy drink one by one, cautious not to spill any or make too much noise as to wake up any brothers. “I totally forgot about that.” 

“Is that why their entire upstairs carpet is stained red?” a voice asks. 

“Dude, is it really?” Mikey asks, but Calum can only laugh harder. 

That was the first night the two of them actually  _ bonded _ . They had gotten close after the first day of meeting but the three hours they spent breaking in, placing the prank, and giggling through their walk home were the glue that really sealed their best friendship. They went from Michael and Calum that night to  _ MikeyandScooter _ . 

Playing pranks was a forbidden aspect of pledging, alongside hazing. Any frat the encouraged the pranking of any students as a mandatory task in their pledge process was at risk of losing their housing. Playing the prank that they did wasn’t anything that would get them into the frat, but to this day, Calum has a strong believe that their fearlessness to attack the biggest fraternity on campus was the extra edge they needed.

“Wish we were still pledges, bro,” Mikey says as soon as Calum’s managed to calm himself. “That shit would get us kicked out today.” 

“Half the shit we do together would get us kicked out.” He’s just talking shit, words meaning nothing in the larger picture. They don’t do much pranking nowadays. Their lives are mostly class, homework, parties, and trying desperately not to fall in love with each other any more than they already have. 

Mikey grins back at him, the two having a small moment, but it’s quickly intruded when Adam’s girlfriend, wearing the signature black and yellow Zeta Psi snapback asks, “So is that when you two started courting then? I’ve always wondered when it was you got together.”

“Courting?”

“Yeah,” she answers Calum’s question. “Like dating. Aren’t you together?”

Mikey laughs softly at the assumption, but Calum has to force a smile so he doesn’t break down and form an entire thesis on the intricacies of their relationship. “We’re just friends - ”

“ _ Best _ friends.” 

Mikey’s arm bumps his subtly. It’s just that slight acknowledgement that they’re in this together, that though it’s tough, and they can’t be together in  _ that _ way, they’re still together in the ways they can be. Calum grins despite the sadness that wants to flow through him. “Has Mikey told you about the time we got the entire frat to call Luke the Village Idiot?”

It works to break the slight tension in the crowd they’ve formed, Mikey laughing alongside everyone else. “Holy shit, should we do that again?”

  
  


**~ M I C H A E L ~**

Michael's hangover hits him hard in the morning, and it makes him feel things even more. He's tired from not sleeping well, nauseous from skipping breakfast, and sad because last night things were going fucking incredible and then some girls had to go and ask about his relationship with Scooter, had to point out how close they are, how perfect they could fit, yet they arent together. 

If that's not the worst part, the moment Michael sits down for his first lecture of the day - Soul Studies - he is thrown into the intricate details of soulmates, how complete they make you feel, and why nobody truly understands what having a soulmate means until they've met theirs. Michael's always wanted to meet his soulmate, but before today he had been okay with waiting however long it took for fate to shine on him. Now, though, there's a yearning inside of him that threatens to choke him like a noose around his neck. 

  
  


**~ C A L U M ~**

The first day of lectures usually means getting the syllabus and playing some stupid game to introduce yourself to the class and get to know your peers, yet somehow, Calum’s managed to wind up with the worst professor and has a five-thousand word essay due in a week. It’s not impossible, it’s just a ridiculous workload that he wasn’t prepared for at this point in his life. 

That’s how he finds himself in bed, laptop open on the longest, most monochromatic, article he’s ever seen in his professional life, while all of his brothers are celebrating a day well done with tacos and video games. He isn’t going to lie and say he’s not jealous, but he knows better than to join in on the nonsense when he’s waist deep in a research paper. 

The last person he’s expecting to see abandon tacos and games is Mikey, but that’s exactly who comes falling through the door at the late hour of four in the afternoon. His backpack is falling from his shoulder, weighted heavily by the books inside. It’s nothing compared to the bags under his eyes, though - grey and heavy with exhaustion. 

“You alright, bro?” Calum asks, letting his concern bleed through his tone. “You look wrecked.”

“You know just how to boost my confidence,” Mikey groans, throwing the door closed behind him and dropping his back as he stomps his way to Calum’s bed, throwing himself atop the duvet dramatically. 

“I could’ve said you look like you’re always damp, but I’m saving that for your 13th birthday, cum stain.” At the cleverly crafted insult, Mikey smiles, but it’s not all the way there. It cause for concern seeing as immature insults always get to him. Calum closes his laptop, sliding it to his left side, away from Mikey, and puts all his attention on the boy. “Seriously, Mikey. What’s up?” 

Mikey shrugs, body jumping with the movement. “Just like… sad and shit. You know what I mean?” 

It’s vague, means nothing to Calum, but he nods nevertheless, knowing better than to be negative when Mikey’s trying to speak his mind. “I feel that sometimes. You wanna talk about it?” 

“Talk about how sad I am?” 

“Yeah,” Calum nods easily. “Talk about our feelings and shit. Get all deep and introspective.” He adjusts how he’s sitting, his hip now closer to Mikey’s shoulder and his hand knocks Mikey’s snapback off his head and runs through his soft hair. “Tell me about your first pet. How’d she die?” 

He chuckles at the attempt at a joke, but it’s still lacking something. “It’s not like, existential or anything. It’s just like… You ever just feel alone?”

It’s a tricky question, in all honesty. The truth is, Calum doesn’t really feel alone at all. When he was younger, he was much sadder, much more lonely. When Mali went away for uni and Ashton got his first job, Calum was left on his own more often than not, always aching for somebody to be with. Now, though, he has far more people in his life. He has Luke, Ashton, the brothers - a whole house of guys that aren’t afraid to hug him when he’s down - sans Ashton, of course, as he refuses to hug anyone. But most of all, the one thing stopping Calum from feeling alone is Mikey. They’ve been insanely close for the past three years, side by side in a ridiculous amount of pranks and parties and talks and… Calum’s never alone. Not when he has the most important person in his life always within arms distance. 

“Sometimes, yeah,” he lies. 

“I just like… We got talking about soul bonds in my lecture this morning, and it got me thinking. I’ve always wanted my soulmate and shit. But like, not now. In the future, man, you know? When I’m all ready to settle down or whatever.” Mikey sighs as he finishes his explanation. 

“But not anymore?” 

He switches the way he’s lying, turning so his face is aimed at Calum, green eyes framed by dark lashes, staring up at him. “Nah, bro. I want him  _ now _ .” 

Calum swallows his tongue at the pretty site his roommate makes, talking about the inevitability of his  _ forever _ with somebody else. “We’re so young - ”  _ And what about me? _ He doesn’t say. 

“The way the book explained it, like, that shit sounds so nice,” Mikey sings. His eyes look almost glazed as he stares into the air between them. “Your soul is complete and you’ve never been happier. It’s like every empty space you’ve ever felt disappears. That’s gotta be so good.” 

It’s not news to him. Calum’s read the book - had to when  _ he _ took Soul Studies a year and a half ago. He feels the same way now that he did years ago, like it’s just a more extreme version of how he already feels with Mikey, a more permanent, irreversible feeling. “Sounds kind of scary, actually.” 

The empty quality of his voice has Mikey flipping onto his back, knocking Calum’s hand to his side as he lets his head hang upside down over the edge of it. “How so?”

“That’s an entire person you’re like, basing your happiness on, or whatever,” Calum tells him. Saying the words as though it’s something unlikely and terrifying, despite the fact that it’s precisely how he feels about Mikey. “That’s a lot of fucking pressure, dude. I don’t think I could, like, complete someone.” 

“Oh, fuck off, man,” Mikey snaps, his face a mask of disbelief as he flaps his hand at Calum’s face. “You’re such a good fucking person. After every party you make sure I’ve got water  _ and _ an aspirin. What more could I ask for?” 

“But like…” It’s not a happy thought, but it’s a thought Calum often has after one too many sambuca shots and he’s feeling self-reflective and  _ sad _ . “One day we’re not gonna live together, and I won’t do that anymore.” Mikey frowns, face a mirror of Calum’s emotional state. “A soulmate is like, forever and shit.” 

For a moment, they’re both quite, Mikey biting the inside of his cheek as he stares almost too intensely at Calum. Eventually he sits up, hair sticking up in the back a bit. But even when he turns to look at Calum, he’s a sight to be seen - effortlessly beautiful, like always. “I think it’ll like, come naturally, you know? Like we were  _ built _ to be everything someone else needs. That’s sick, right? Like there’s someone out there who’s like, the other half of you, Scooter. Isn’t that incredible?” Though it’s supposed to be a good thought, something motivational to back them off the edge of an emotional crisis, the way Mikey phrased his encouragement has Calum laughing as a terrifyingly hilarious crosses his mind. 

“Wouldn’t it be fucking funny if my soulmate just had  _ ‘Scooter’ _ written on their arm or something?” 

Only, Mikey doesn’t laugh alongside him, just sits quietly, looking sadder than before. It’s not until Calum’s stopped laughing and started looking curiously at his friend that Mikey says, “You’ll find love.” 

“Yeah…” Calum nods along, but he feels confused with it. Of course he’ll find love eventually, some time in the future, but that wasn’t what was funny about it. “But like… what if?”

“Exactly,” Mikey smiles sympathetically, his entire face a vision of pity. “What if.” 

Something’s happened in the past minute that makes Calum feel like he’s been hit with whiplash. He’s left confused, wondering what could have possibly gone wrong that Mikey’s looking at him like a kicked puppy. Even as the topic moves on, no longer stuck on the tricky topic of soulmates, everything Mikey says is tinged with an edge of softness. 

All in all, it’s a weird night. 

  
  


**~ M I C H A E L ~**

For the next few days, all that Michael can really think about is his talk with Scooter. It wasn’t supposed to be so damn  _ heavy _ , but he can’t forget the way his friend just blew off the idea of somebody being his soulmate, as though the idea of his name being on somebody was  _ laughable _ . 

It hurts because all Michael wants in life is for Scooter to be  _ happy _ . If they can’t be together, if the universe threw them together just to have it mean nothing, then  _ fine _ \- the least they can do is give someone worthy of having the name ‘ _ Scooter _ ’ beautifully etched above their heart, or something equally as romantic. As long as Michael can be by his friend and stand by him, he’s okay that they aren’t meant for each other, and he yearns to see Scooter happy with someone one day. 

Even if the entire time he’ll be dreaming about sticking his tongue down his friend’s throat. 

Though maybe it wouldn’t be the worst for them not to be together. It hurts to think about, but if Scooter isn’t his soulmate, then that must mean there’s someone out there that’ll fit  _ better _ . It’s insane to think about, that anyone could make him happier than his best friend, but there  _ must _ be. And if that person exists… Michael would be a fool to want someone else. 

As Michael’s letting his inner monologue run tired, thoughts switching between wanting Scooter but also wanting Calum and knowing he can’t have both, Ashton walks into the kitchen, headed straight for the refrigerator, and grabs a string cheese out of it. When he realizes he’s not alone, he smirks through the cheese in his mouth. “How you doing, man? Still jerking it to the thought of your roommate every night?” 

Though it’s a joke, Michael can’t help but frown. He wants a soulmate to complete him, but he’s been so obviously pining for Scooter for the past three years. Even Ashton, though he’s halfway joking, knows that he’s completely gone. “Shut up, asshole. I’m like, seriously upset right now.” 

“Oh yeah?” It’s probably meant to be a serious question, but Ashton’s peeling another strand of the cheese free, shoving it into his still-moving mouth. “What about?” 

“You wouldn’t get it, dude. You’d just laugh.”

“What the fuck?” He sounds seriously offended, even with his gob stuffed full of dairy. “I’m sensitive to other people’s issues. Fuck you. Tell me what’s wrong.” Michael doesn’t move to answer, only glares at his friend. “Dude.” He shoves Michael’s shoulders but his grin isn’t there. “Seriously, man. What’s wrong? Is everything like, is the fam okay?” 

At that, Michael rolls his eyes. “Family’s fine, man.” He pauses for a moment, considering, before adding, “I’m not, though.” 

“Right. Because you’re like sad and shit.”

“Yeah.” He isn’t going to say anything - doesn’t want to - but Ashton’s just leaning patiently against the fridge eating his string cheese, wanting to listen to what Michael has to say. And Michael wants to complain because that’s just who he is as a person. “I just like,” he starts through a sigh. “I want my soulmate, bro. Like, I know he’s out there, and one day I’ll meet him, but like.  _ When _ ? I just want to feel complete right now and like, suck a dick or something.” 

Ashton likes to consider himself a wordsmith of sorts. He can expertly craft words of guidance, can lead you in the right direction, just by pulling absolute nonsense bullshit out of his ass. Michael will forever wonder where that side of him went when his wisest piece of advice is, “You don’t need a soulmate to suck a dick.” 

Obviously it’s not what Michael’s looking to hear, not after he bared his soul or whatever. “I’m not going to suck someone’s dick when my soulmate could be right around the corner, dude. What if I meet him the day after and he finds out I’m such a horny prick that I couldn’t even wait a few hours to suck  _ his _ .” Ashton only raises a brow, eating his snack obnoxiously as Michael rants. “Fuck, and then what if he gets some sort of like, a complex or whatever, about whether I liked the other dick better? I’m not a fucking asshole.” 

“Dude,” Ashton laughs at the peril on Michael’s face, “you’re so stressed out over nothing. You’ve got time.” 

“I know I’ve got time, you dick.”

“No, like.” Ashton sticks his hands up in surrender when he sees the angry tilt to Michael’s brow. “I’m not telling you you’re overreacting and being a baby. I’m just saying you’re  _ stressing _ out. You’re gonna make yourself sick worrying this much.” 

“Right, great advice,” he says sarcastically. “I’ll just stop worrying.”

Ashton rolls his eyes, and Michael notices the subtle shift to his stance, the way he stands taller like he’s about to jump. “You trying to fight, Mikey? You want sophomore year again? I’ll lock you in the pantry again.” 

At the unpleasant memory, Michael glares. The last thing he wanted today was to be thrown back to two years ago when he was still a new brother, thinking he was hot shit for being in a fraternity. He’d said a few wrong words and ended up locked in the kitchen pantry for the entirety of the house’s holiday party. When he was finally let out, the first thing he did was run crying to Scooter, who immediately dragged him over to Ashton to apologize. 

It wasn’t his finest moment. 

“I’m trying to tell you that there’s a lot of time left in your life that your soulmate could show up. It could be today - could be when you’re eighty. If you spend every moment until you meet them overthinking everything, you’re going to be miserable.” 

It takes a lot of effort, but Michael resists rolling his eyes. He already knows all this, but what else is he supposed to do? “I can’t just, like, turn off my feelings, man. This isn’t the fifties.”

“You have to find  _ other _ things that complete you, dude. Like that vegan cheese you eat. And like video games and shit. Small things so you realize that your life is more than just waiting for someone else. You’re already a whole person, fuck your soulmate for right now.”

“That seems so hard, Ash,” Michael complains, knowing that Ashton’s right but not wanting to make the effort. 

“Nah, it’s gonna be fun,” Ashton tells him, shoving the rest of his cheese in his mouth mid-sentence. “We can have a boys night. Just me, you, and - ” He’s cut off when a familiar face walks in the room. “Scooter!”

“That’s my name,” he shouts back, unbridled joy etched on his face with that beautiful smile of his. Michael can tell the moment he senses the mood, though, as his grin softens and he’s putting his arm up for Michael to cuddle into. “We still feeling sad?” Michael nods. “Want me to tell the Village Idiot to set up Mario Kart? We can play against him and laugh when he loses.” 

Michael chuckles, still feeling a bit hopeless, but unable to stop from being happy in the presence of his best friend. Scooter always makes him feel better. 

  
  


**~ C A L U M ~**

The next party Calum finds himself at isn’t a Zeta Psi bash, shockingly. It’s thrown at the Lambda Nu house down the block, and Calum made himself go. Also at the party is Mikey, Luke, Chad, and PJ - all of which have abandoned him to take body shots off of each other. Calum had almost joined in, was almost persuaded by the idea of getting his lips on Mikey’s body, but he’s chosen to be better this year. 

In the past, he’s let himself do things that push him further in love with Mikey. He’s let himself do body shots, play the index card game, get sloppy with his feelings. In the past, it’s been completely alright because Mikey had given it back in kind and then some. Lately, though, it seems like he’s really fucked up with this whole soulmate situation. It sucks when all Calum wants is for them to be together, but as a good best friend he needs to keep his distance. 

And as a kindness to himself, he needs to keep some distance. He can’t keep getting caught up in these games they play if it means he’s still going to wake up one day, alone, while Mikey’s off, desperately in love with his one true person. 

That’s not to say he’s completely going to step back - he’d have to be insane to live a life without Mikey in it. It just means that he’ll be more cautious. If Mikey wants to spend the night cuddling in bed and talking about their days, Calum’s all for it. He wants them to be close, doesn’t want their feelings to compromise the lifelong friendship they’re going to have. But something as heavy as liking salt off of Mikey’s chest, sucking tequila out of his collarbone, and taking a lime from between his lips while they’re both shitfaced… 

That’s unfortunately a no go. 

Because of the new rules set in place, Calum spends the night talking to a girl in the sorority. He’s seen her around a few times, but they’ve really gotten to know each other. As they’ve been speaking, she hasn’t once attempted to flirt, which is one of the reasons he feels comfortable enough to keep the conversation going. They’re both pretty faded at this point, mindlessly taking shots as they watch a Delta Gamma brother aptly named Doobley attempt to do a keg stand with nobody around to hold his legs. 

It’s not as good as spending any amount of time with Mikey, but it’s still fun. There’s not much breath in his lungs at this point because every time he catches it, one of them notices something new about Doobley’s little show, and he loses it all over it again. 

“He’s got no upper body strength,” the girl is giggling. She takes a drink out of her bottle, head shaking in disappointment as she does. “At all.” 

“That’s not even going to be an issue,” Calum argues. It’s been twenty minutes of this and he’s made no progress, yet he persists. “He can’t  _ jump _ . He keeps one foot on the ground.”

The girl laughs, shoving Calum’s shoulder as though he’s said something cruel for the sake of comedy. “No he doesn’t, stop.” 

“Seriously, dude!” He points at where Doobley’s pulling up his pants to prepare for another go at getting in the air. He’s aware that it's obvious that they’re spectating, but this many drinks in, he doesn’t give a shit. “Look at his left foot when he jumps.” 

It takes a moment, the dimwitted Gamma needing some time to hype himself up. When he finally bends down, gripping the sides of the keg, the two watch him lean forward in anticipation. Doobley jumps, his right leg going up, but his left leg barely gets an inch off the ground, staying straight the entire time. Calum smiles, but the girl he’s talking to completely loses it, throwing her head back at the absurdity. 

“He’s so fucking  _ bad _ !” she mocks. Calum opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, she gasps loudly. “The keg isn’t even tapped!”

Calum’s eyes zoom in, and sure enough it’s a closed keg. That’s the end of his composure, nearly dropping to the floor when he realizes exact how fucking stupid Doobley looks in the middle of the room, hands on an untapped keg, one foot in the air as he tries to do an impossible kegstand with nobody caring enough to hold his legs or tell him he’s a goddamn disaster of a person. 

Every time Calum goes to say something, he just thinks of the situation again and falls back down. He doesn’t really calm down until he’s attempting to catch his breath for the fourth time when a pair of arms wrap around his waist and a head is gently rested against his shoulder. “I wanna dance,” the person whines, voice airy and warm against Calum’s ear. 

It’s tragic that a simple few words can pull all of Calum’s attention away from such a great situation. “Then dance,” he says, hoping he sounds friendly and not desperate to get Mikey away from him before he gives in and spends the rest of the night doing whatever psuedo-sexual thing he wants. “There’s a whole room for it and everything.” 

Quicker than he attached himself to Calum, Mikey pulls his arms away. He walks to the side of the counter, and Calum can tell he’s just as fucking gone - if not more - as Calum is. “You’re just going to make me dance all alone?” Mikey asks, pouting. “What happened to best friends, Scooter? I could  _ die _ out there by myself.” 

“Ask me to dance with you then, fuckwit,” Calum laughs, not realizing he’s just given Mikey permission to invite him to do something that involves them getting closer than normal friends should. 

In all honesty, though, Calum’s drunk enough that he can excuse this. When he wakes up in the morning and Mikey’s whining about his soulmate, Calum will blame the alcohol for the heat running through his veins. 

Mikey rolls his eyes and sighs at the insistence. “Scooter Wooter, love of my looter, with you come dance with me?” 

Trying to cringe and failing, Calum can’t help but laugh. “That was bad.” 

“I’m drunk and you’re bullying me. I’ll go dance with Luke if you’re going to be this mean. His ass is fatter than yours.” 

Calum frowns at the idea of Mikey asking anybody to dance with him when Calum’s right in front of him. “Don’t dance with the Village Idiot. Our bodies fit better together.” 

“So come  _ dance _ .” 

It shouldn’t be so simple for Mikey to make Calum do things, to bend to his will so easily, but after three years of friendship - over half of that being so fucking gone for the guy - a gentle push is all that it takes. Calum follows Mikey out to the dancefloor, not even caring that everything he’d stated to himself about treading lightly has lost meaning. If in the morning he’s regretting his choices, he’ll blame it on the alcohol - drunk on the rum and the feeling of Mikey’s hand in his. 

The music playing is typical of what’s expected at a sorority, something catchy and fun with a bassline dirty enough to have everyone in the room moving their entire bodies alongside it. There’s a small group of sisters nearby that Mikey and Calum jump around with for a song or two before bigger and better things come by and the two are left alone again. It’s fine at first, Calum not too bothered, feeling like maybe he’s safe to get comfortable in the presence of his bro, but then the music dips, the song switching over to something more sultry, the bass pounding through the speakers and their bodies. 

When they press against each other, it’s meant to be a joke. There are couples around them grinding, losing their modesty to the music, and it’s funny to act like they’re just another couple in the crowd. But as the music goes on and the air gets thick around them, it stops being a joke. Their bodies are pressed tight together, sliding against each other with every bar in the song. Calum’s forehead is tipped so it’s touching Mikey’s, sweat-slick fringe sticking to both of them as they breath together, mouths only one lucky move from touching. 

On a particularly heavy note, the music sparking a heat beneath Calum’s skin, his hips jerk forward, knocking into Mikey’s, making him grip Calum’s biceps, shuddering out a breathe that hits cool against Calum’s cheek. After that, all pretences of a platonic, hilarious shared dance are gone, the two brothers letting their thighs slip between each other’s legs, rubbing off together against each other. Just as they’re both getting almost too into it, movement’s clumsy and soft moans harmonizing to the music, the song changes, something jumpy and fun coming on. It doesn’t completely ruin the mood, isn’t enough to sober them from the situation, but everything gets a bit less urgent. 

“That was fun,” Mikey comments, and Calum can’t help but notice how weak his voice sounds, halfway stuck in his throat. 

“ _ Fun _ ,” Calum agrees. His chest is lifting with every breath he takes, the moment still burning in his throat like whiskey. “You move well to the beat.”

“Oh, thanks. It’s easy when I have a good partner leading me.”

It feels completely forced, the way they’re just pretending that this is a normal conversation, like they didn’t both ride each other’s thighs in the middle of the Lambda Nu dance floor, like they’re not still standing there, a fraction away from kissing. “Think you were the one leading, bro. Felt myself just following everything you did.”

Mikey’s eyes are focused on Calum’s lips - he’d have to be blind not to notice - and it takes all of Calum’s focus not to do the same, not to lean it and really let himself have what he’s been needing. “Thought I was following you?” 

“Natural, then,” Calum shrugs. “We both just knew how to move together.”

Mikey bites his lips, finally snapping the last thread of Calum’s self-control, drawing his gaze to the way the plush skin looks so perfect with an indent in it. “Living together for three years did us  _ some _ good, I guess.” With his words, he inches closer, they’re noses finally touching, mouth tilting up. 

“I’d say so.” 

It’s about to happen, Calum can see himself making contact, letting his tongue slip into Mikey’s and tasting what the Universe is trying to keep from him. It would be dirty and wrong and so fucking  _ good _ \- but Luke stops everything from unfolding by shoving into them, his arms around their shoulders, smile on his face, and two shot glasses in his hands. “Mikey! Scooter! Shots!” They’re forced to take a step back from each other, no longer sharing the same, tense space. It feels colder like this and Calum wants nothing more than to warm himself up between Mikey’s thighs. 

Mikey takes the shot, cringing with the unpleasant taste of tequila - his least favorite alcohol - and Luke laughs in delight. When it’s Calum’s turn to take the shot, it goes down smooth, but he doesn’t notice. He’s too busy watching Mikey, eyes heavy as they burn into his best friend’s. He knows they can’t be together, but god _ damn _ does he want it. 

“Thanks, Luke,” Calum says, voice only halfway there. 

“Thanks, Luke.” Even as Mikey repeats the sentiment, neither of them are looking at Luke. Even when the boy in question laughs and walks away, they maintain their eye contact. “Glad I had the shot, to be honest,” Mikey confesses. 

“Yeah?” Calum asks. He’s happy for the distance. It’s given him the ability to think more clearly. “Thought you hated tequila.” 

“I do.” 

The contradiction would make Calum do a double take if his attention wasn’t already taken up completely. “So why are you glad?”

“I needed something bitter to keep me from tasting you.” He leaves with that statement, arm grazing Calum’s thigh as he walks away. 

Suddenly Calum needs another shot. 

  
  


**~ M I C H A E L ~**

The morning after the Lambda Nu Rush Party, Michael’s feeling like absolute shit. He's not going to say he made a mistake last night, but he absolutely made a mistake last night. He let himself get too close to Scooter, closer than they've ever gotten before, knowing that they're not soulmates. If it wasn't for Luke interrupting them with shots, Michael knows he would've kissed Scooter - probably even more. 

It would've been catastrophic, had it happened. Walking back to their room afterwards was awkward enough after only dancing, had they acted on their feelings, Michael's certain he'd be looking for a new roommate this morning. 

Luckily, Michael has a light schedule today. He has a noon lecture, and another at two, so he didn't have to wake up too early. Scooter was already gone by the time he did, which is good because Michael can't fucking look at him after yesterday, not with all this  _ want _ inside of him. It was hot and tense and he needs to fucking tear Scooter apart. 

As he's getting ready for classes, bending down to pull his boxers up over his bare ass, the door opens behind him and Michael topples over, falling to the ground. He doesn't move for a moment too shocked to do a thing, but then he's shuffling around to see who has the fucking balls to just barge into other people's rooms at eleven in the morning - the prime time to be changing. 

It's Ashton - of course it is - standing in the doorway with a full bag of pistachios in his hand, eyes wide as his gaze is stuck on Michael's thigh, in the exact area his ass just was. When he notices Michael's eyes on his, he just looks up, shocked expression on his face. "Bruh…"

For a moment, Michael doesn't know how to react to Ashton's casual surprise. It's not until his friend's eyes drift back down to his thighs that he reacts. "Do you fucking  _ mind _ ?" 

"Your tattoo," Ashton says, no sense of guilt in his voice. It makes red climb up Michael's neck in anger and slight embarrassment- he's not used to being on display like this. 

"Yeah, on my  _ ass _ , you fucking perve," he spits. "Can you shut the fucking door?" Ashton reacts quickly, stepping in and closing the door behind him, moving in the opposite direction. " _ Dude _ !" 

Instead of acknowledging how uncomfortable he's making Michael, how rude he's being, he just pops a deshelled pistachio in his mouth and points to Michael's crotch. "It says  _ Calum _ , man." When Michael doesn’t grant that with an answer, only raises his eyebrows, Ashton continues. "Are you fucking… have you always known?"

"Have I always known that my ass says Calum on it?" Michael deadpans. His tone must not be getting through as Ashton only nods. "I sure have. Can you  _ leave _ ?"

"What the fuck, Mikey? Your ass says  _ Calum _ ."

"I fucking know, man!" He knows he shouldn't be so angry, shouldnt be letting this moment get the best of him, but he's cold and slightly hungover and exposed to someone who he really doesn't want to fucking see right now. "That’s why the fuck I’m so sad all the time. I haven’t met him yet, and I want to and I’m  _ naked _ , can you fucking go already?"

As smart as Ashton pretends to be, Michael thinks he may be the dumbest person on Earth. He's completely unable to pick up on any social queues ever, not leaving when he's being asked, only continuing to eat his pistachios, braindead look on his stupid face. "What do you mean you haven’t met him? He literally…" He trails off, but then suddenly starts laughing. "Oh my  _ god _ . This is incredible." 

The heat in Michael's face has kept him from really realizing what's going on, but Ashton's grin is a dead giveaway and - "Do you… Shit, Ashton. Do you know Calum?"

"Oh,  _ everybody _ knows Calum," Ashton says. He's chewing his snack through the smirk on his face, smugness bleeding through. "Can’t believe you don’t, to be honest." 

"How do you…" Mochael trails off, frowning. The mocking tone of Ashton's voice hits and suddenly it's less exciting news. "Can you introduce me?"

"Oh, I’m not the right guy for that. I think fate might be making you wait for a reason."

Perhaps it's because he's still waking up, or maybe it's due to the emotional overload of still being naked in front of one of his closest friends, Michael feels his eyes watering at the denial, not letting them fall. "So you’re just gonna stare at my ass, make me feel like shit, and not let me meet my soulmate?"

"I’m also going to do this." Ashton steps forward, kneels down, and hugs Michael, the pistachio bag crinkling behind his back. It should be weird because Michael's so close to tears and he's also bare as the day he was born, but Ashton's never done this before, so he thinks he can make an exception. 

"You hate hugging people," Michael points out. "You’ve never even hugged Scooter."

"I haven’t hugged most people," Ashton clarifies, still holding Michael in his arms. The gesture of it is sweet, and Michael falls into it. That is, at least, until - "Because most people aren’t as stupid as you." Michael pulls away quickly. Ashtons smiling, but it doesn’t look like he's making fun of Michael, only that he’s thinking something over. "I’ll tell Calum you’re looking for him."

  
  


**~ C A L U M ~**

The first time Calum sees Mikey after the Lambda Nu party, it’s not as weird as he thought it’d be. It's been exactly three days since the incident, exactly three days of avoiding contact, not speaking to each other. It's been exactly three days of feeling miserable and cheated out of a friendship all because Calum can't control his dick. Or his heart. 

Its complete shit. 

When they finally run into each other, it's almost midnight and there's not a moment of hesitation between them. Calum's sending in an essay to his professor, ready to cue up Netflix and watch a shitty movie to pass the time when Mikey comes storming in the room, rushing to Calum's bed, and throwing himself face first onto it. It's instinct for Calum to reach out and play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

They rest in silence for longer than would be comfortable if they were anybody else. Calum has one hand on his laptop and one hand on his bro, and he's never felt more at ease. He'd be happy to fall asleep like this, even if it meant waking up with a crick in his neck, but Mikey breaks the silence, voice broken and sad when he sighs, " _ Calum _ ."

"I know," Calum says automatically, not sure what's got his friend feeling so low but sensing the pain. "Tough day?" 

_ "Really  _ tough." He sounds exhausted, So Calum doesn't push. Mikey turns his head to look at Calum when nothing is said and smiles. "Missed you, Scooter."

"Missed you too, Mikey." If they weren't both already well aware of how into each other they are, the fondness in Calum's voice would be a dead fucking give away. "I was sad I couldn’t say goodnight to you last night."

" _ I’m _ sad I couldn’t see your beautiful face this morning."

The dopey smile on Calum's face after that is unstoppable. He's so fucking gone for his best friend. "Just two sad, beautiful bros."

"Being sad and beautiful," Mikey finishes. 

"The fucking struggle we face." At Calum's exasperation, Mikey grins. It's the first one Calum's seen since before they dry-fucked on the dance floor at Lambda Nu. It's fucking beautiful, and Calum decides then and there it's the only smile worth seeing in the entire fucking universe. "So what has you so sad," he asks. "Beside your lack of me of course." 

Mikey sighs, face sobering slightly. "Just soulmate stuff, I guess." 

It’s not that Calum’s insensitive to his best friend’s feelings, it’s just that he doesn’t get the obsession Mikey's been holding for his soulmate lately. Sure, there’s someone out there for each of them - someone that isn’t each other - but who knows how far away meeting them could be? Mikey and Calum  _ work _ together, they fit with each other like puzzle pieces, effortless and complete. It’s fucking stupid that just because there’s someone else out there, they can’t even try. 

His fingers clench, short nails digging crescent-shaped indents into the smooth skin of his palm as he tries not to let his mind linger on the  _ someone else _ of the situation, focusing on the Mikey of it all. It’s a conversation he never wants to have at all, but he’s a good best friend, and it’s his duty to be there to console him, whether or not the topic of conversation conflicts with Calum’s personal feelings. 

“Anything specific bothering you?” Calum asks, keeping his question vague so as to not intentionally provoke a deep, lengthy talk about it all. “I’m here to listen if you want to share your feelings and shit.” 

“Thanks, bro.” At first, Calum thinks Mikey’s going to leave it at that, but then he sighs, body scooting closer into Calum’s side. “I don’t know. I guess, like, just the fact that I haven’t met him yet is a fucking downer. Especially when people like Luke and Ashton are out there ignoring what’s been handed to them.”

At the mention of their brothers, Calum can’t help but roll his eyes, a scoff inadvertently coming out, his hand getting rougher in Mikey’s hair for just a moment. “They’re fucking annoying. Everytime Ashton interupts one of Luke’s conversations to just stand in front of him and say nothing, I want to fucking murder them.” 

“They’re gonna graduate and be too stubborn to say anything.” It’s not a whine, but the quality of Mikey’s tone is somber, less like he’s mocking them and more like he feels for them. It’s a new side to him, in all honesty. “It’s fucking stupid.” 

“If it’s just them you’re stressing over, I’m so sorry. I don’t think I can help any more than I’m already trying to help myself.”

A hollow laugh falls from Mikey’s lips. “Nah, bro. They’re just a drop of water in the river of my emotions.” 

“ _ Fuck _ , dude. That was deep.”

“Thanks, man,” Mikey says. “It’s the depression or whatever.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but Calum doesn’t find himself laughing and instead just stares down at Mikey’s sad, green eyes. “Anyway, I think Ashton might actually  _ know _ my soulmate. It’s made this ache in my chest so much stronger.” 

For a moment, Calum’s hand stills in Mikey’s hair, halfway through a strand. There’s a pounding in his chest and a shakiness to his breath at the idea that Mikey’s soulmate is that close - close enough that they have mutual friends, friends that used to be so supportive of Calum and Mikey being together, but now seem to have drifted their focus… much like Mikey himself. 

“Did you tell him to introduce you?” Calum asks, hand hesitantly resuming its stroking. 

“Fucking obviously, Scoot,” Mikey bites, eyes rolling. “I’m not completely dumb.” 

“Could’ve fooled me.”

At the sarcastic remark, said quietly enough Calum didn’t actually think would be heard, Mikey punches Calum’s stomach, the impact more painful that expected given that Mikey’s lying down. “Don’t be an asshole. Ashton told me he  _ couldn’t _ . But I feel like that’s because he doesn’t  _ actually _ know my soulmate? I don’t fucking know it’s all a mess right now.” For a few minutes, Mikey lies quietly, Calum continuing to console him through gentle touches. The silence is broken when he groans, head falling back so it’s almost tipping off the bed. “It’s like…  _ Calum _ . I don’t know. It’s all fucked up. I feel stupid as fuck.” 

“You’re not stupid, Mikey,” Calum says. It’s hard to sit by as his best friend sounds so desperate, not being able to help. “You just want so badly that every minor step forward or backward feels like so much more.” 

Mikey groans again, this one sounding less tortured and more tired. He rolls his head forward again and his eyes are lighter this time around. “I love you, man. You’re so fucking wise. How are you younger than me?” 

“Three months.”

“Three months…” Mikey repeats. “You’re three months dumber than me.”

Calum grins, scooting his body away from Mikey’s swing zone as he teases, “And you’re half an inch shorter.” 

“Hey, fuck you!” 

They both laugh, and the constricting ropes around Calum’s chest break free, the room feeling lighter, less tense. It’s like he can breathe for the first time in three days, for the first time since Mikey stole the ability from him on the dance floor. 

It’s quiet between them, bodies pressed tight next to each other as Calum runs his fingers through Mikey’s soft hair. When the conversation has settled and he’s sure there’s nothing more to say on the subject, Calum closes his laptop and shoves it off his lap. “I’m fucking starving. You feel like making something?”

“Fuck yeah,” Mikey agrees instantly, pushing his body up. “The Village Idiot just bought those pizza bagel things. I’ve been meaning to steal some.”

They make their way downstairs and into the kitchen. The house is asleep, so they try to be quiet, but it’s easier said than done when they make each other giggle just by being in the same room. Through the entire process, things stay light, straying from heavier topics, but there’s one moment that chokes Calum with its tension. 

As Calum’s pulling their snacks from the oven, Mikey needs to reach around Calum for plates, so he presses his body tight against Calum’s breath ghosting over the skin of Calum’s neck. It can’t be any longer than a count to five, but it feels like an eternity to him. It’s not until the heat along his back disappears and he catches a glimpse of Mikey smirking that Calum realizes it was intentional. 

“You’re such a dick,” he laughs, but that’s as much as they talk about it - not daring to make another situation like the Lambda Nu one. 

  
  


**~ M I C H A E L ~**

When Michael's Cultures of the World class lets out, all he can think about is how much he wants to go home, stuff his face with whatever junk food is hiding in their cupboards, and sleep for the next twenty hours until he has to be back on campus again. It's his usual Thursday night schedule, something he loves to work by, but tonight it doesn't seem plausible. 

As he's just breaking free from the sea of people leaving the lecture hall, he hears something that ticks his interest enough to have him spinning in place. “ _ Calum! Where you been! _ ?” 

What follows is a laugh that echoes so beautifully in his ear, that it couldn't be anybody other than his soulmate. It's familiar in a way that must mean he's heard it before, in another life - it has to be his  _ soul _ that recognizes it. 

He goes searching for the laugh, the beautiful voice that put him on his toes and has him floating around the quad. He looks in every nook and cranny for somebody he doesn’t know the name of that looks like they could belong to the voice, but he comes up short. 

Not only does he manage to avoid finding his soulmate, but he actually, physically, bumps into somebody he  _ does _ know. "Oh… Scooter."

"Well, damn," Scooter laughs, his pleasant smile dropping to a mock-frown. "Can’t say I’m too overwhelmed with this welcoming party to be honest."

With his brain still stuck on the  _ Calum _ of it all, Michael can only shake his head. "I just meant that I was looking for somebody else. It was a surprise to see you." Scooter raises a brow. "Not a bad one," he clarifies. 

"Good." Scooter grins, his arm joking around Michael's shoulder. "Wanna get lunch then? I feel like I’ve hardly seen you. I wanna hear about your soul study class."

There's a part of him upset that he didn’t find his soulmate, that his other half is so close, just out of reach, but a bigger part of him lights up, just at being near Scooter. It may not be Calum, but seeing these familiar brown eyes waiting hopefully in front of him, it feels like the furthest thing from a loss. 

  
  


**~ C A L U M ~**

With a Choral Lit partner project having been assigned, Calum finds his Sunday morning spent in the kitchen, sitting on the counter as Luke makes himself a sandwich, the two of them discussing what they should do. 

They’re tossing back ideas about the different views they can take on the reading when Calum notices that Luke’s answers aren’t exactly thought out. He lets it slide briefly, but as his arguments continue to make no sense, Calum has to speak up. “Have you even read the chapter yet?” 

“Fuck off,” Luke laughs. He pauses in spreading mayonnaise on his bread to lean against the counter. “‘Course I have. I just haven’t gotten to my outlining yet. I’m shit at multitasking, you know that.”

“Just making sure,” Calum shrugs. His legs are swinging in front of him, occasionally banging against the cabinetry. “I worked with Kevin last year on some English essay and he didn’t do the reading until the night before it was due.” 

“Kevin’s fucking stupid, man.” 

Taking a moment so as not to laugh, Calum bites his bottom lip and lets a moment of silence pass between them. When he’s collected his bearings, he says, “Luke, I’m sorry bro, but you’re not one to talk. You’re  _ literally _ the Village Idiot.” 

Luke’s hand flaps flippantly in front of him. “Yeah, but that’s just a fun nickname.” 

It takes even more effort for Calum not to bust out laughing this time around. He presses his lips together because he refuses to be the one to break it to Luke that as funny as he is, as pretty as he is, as talented as he is, he’s still a little stupid. He doesn’t want to be the last crack to shatter the glass that surrounds the fragility of Luke’s self-confidence. 

The silence that was between them before suddenly turns thick when Ashton walks past the threshold, bowl of cereal in his large palm. He makes brief eye contact with Calum, smirking, before letting his expression get more serious as he turns to stare Luke down. He drains his bowl of milk, walks to the sink, and swaps his bowl for a banana. As he’s peeling it, he gets as close to Luke as he can, mouths nearly touching. Calum watches as Luke falls for it, leaning in the slightest bit… and Ashton turns away. 

“Sup, Scooter?” 

As Ashton walks out, smirk a mile wide on his face, Luke’s mouth turns down, knife in his hand coming down unnecessarily hard to cut his sandwich diagonally. “Fucking  _ hate _ him.”

“Yeah, it’s a good thing you’re not destined to spend the rest of your lives together,” Calum teases, jumping down from the counter and swiping half of Luke’s sandwich. 

“Exactly.” Luke’s nodding along like Calum’s not mocking him for his ignorance. “That’d be torture. I hear he doesn’t even have a name.” 

“Ashton.”

“Bless you.” 

Luke’s response is so perfectly timed, Calum has to question if it was really him that said it as he laughs through the bread in his mouth. “I get the whole pretending you don’t know the other person’s name-thing, but you can’t pretend that you don’t know what the name Ashton is. It’s written on your fucking collar, dude.”

Taking a bite of his sandwich, Luke stares at Calum, eyes narrowed through his chewing.”Haven’t you heard?” he asks. “I can’t read.”

“I know you think you’re joking, but it’s pretty fucking believable.” Calum grins at Luke’s frown. “Be careful who you say that to, bro. Nobody would question it for a moment.” 

“Fuck you, asshole.”

“Fuck  _ you _ , actually,” Calum bites back, watching as Luke throws away the crust of his sandwich. “You and Ashton are right there for each other to take. It’s been three fucking years. Don’t you think it’s time for you to go after what you want on behalf of those of us who can’t?” 

He didn’t mean to turn this easy-going conversation of their project into an argument, but lately, with Mikey feeling as down as he has been about his soulmate, Calum feels like Luke and Ashton’s game is a bit mocking. If they got their shit together, finally stopped being dicks and bit the bullet of starting their relationship, it’d make everything less tense and rushed and  _ painful _ for Mikey. 

Luke’s staring at Calum, mouth dropped open and eyebrows raised. “You don’t even care about your soulmate, Calum.”

“Hey, fuck you. I care!” It’s not that Calum doesn’t want his soulmate - he just knows that at his age, school is more of a pressing issue than finding his other half. If they were to meet know, it’d be amazing, and Calum wouldn’t hesitate to get started on happily ever after, it’s just that he’d like to be more established as a person before then. Also, of course, the  _ Mikey _ of the situation… “I’m just not in any rush.” 

“Me neither.” 

Not snapping about the candor of that statement is difficult, but Calum manages. “Yeah, but if my soulmate came up to me right now, I’d say his fucking name. I wouldn’t play three years of soulmate chicken, leaking my sexual tension everywhere.” 

“It’s not like that at all,” Luke laughs. 

“Are you serious?”

Luke shrugs and the humor wipes from his face slowly, something more serious and upsetting taking over. “If, like, if we were to say each other’s names or whatever, it still wouldn’t be over. I don’t think he likes me like that, you know?”

The insecurity Luke has always baffles Calum. He hears about it every time Ashton’s brought up as a topic, and every time it’s a surprise. It’s been three years of this and Luke still doesn’t understand just how fucking gone Ashton is for him. 

“Luke,  _ dude _ ,” Calum starts to explain. “He spent all of last year’s end of the year party telling me how much he wanted to bend you over the basement couch and eat your ass.” 

It was exactly what Luke wanted to hear, Calum assumes, based on the grin he’s trying - and failing - to hide. “Crazy he’d say that. I’ve never even met him.” 

“I’m not doing this today, man,” Calum laughs, astonished that he really fell into the trap of reassuring Luke’s ridiculous doubts about his soulmate. “You’re so fucking stupid it’s unreal.” 

“You’re a bully, Scooter.”

Calum flips Luke off and heads to his bedroom. As he’s approaching the stairs, he passes the living room where Mikey’s falling onto the sofa, sighing what sounds like Calum’s name.

“What?” 

“I’m just sighing,” Mikey says. He doesn’t turn to look at Calum, nor does he continue speaking, and Calum’s left confused because he definitely heard his name falling from the other’s lips. 

  
  


**~ M I C H A E L ~**

Every once in a blue moon, the Zeta Psi fraternity forgoes homework and relationships and parties, all to gather in their large living room and play games until slowly, one-by-one, they each abandon the boards and cards and drinks to make their way to bed. It's one of the oldest traditions the house has to offer, and it's also Michael's absolute favorite. 

Not to toot his own horn or anything, but Michael is an absolute legend during game night. He's never once left one early, just like he's never once lost. Alright, that's not true. He's lost individual games plenty, but he always wins a majority of the games each night, making him the overall winner of everything. 

The title isn't just his, though. He's not the only mastermind behind the excellence of the games. He and Scooter are the fucking dream team - so in tune with each other that they move as one person, annihilating the competition easily. 

The night started with Jenga - a mistake, in Michael's humble opinion. He and Scooter both have very delicate and skilled fingers from years of playing their respective instruments. Nobody had a chance - especially not Luke when Ashton obnoxiously yelled "Look!" and tricked the poor Junior into thinking they could finally be together. It was a cruel trick, Michael thought, but all is fair in love and war. 

Super Mario Smash Brothers was the easiest one to win, in Michael's opinion. Scooter's hand-eye coordination is decent, but there's never been a video game that Michael couldn't easily conquer. They played only two rounds of that before Adam called them cheaters and threw his controller across the floor, effectively ending their ability to play any "breakable" games. 

Monopoly, pictionary, charades - they're unbeatable, a duo unmatched. It's like the were made to play together, like if there were a soulmate for tearing your brotherhood to shreds, Michael's ass would read Scooter's name. 

It's a fun night for the two of them, but everyone else has been getting understandably upset over the favored odds of them being on a team together. It's as Michael's pulling his paper out of the bag and laughing at the simplicity of it, that he can see the cracks forming in everybody's demeanor. He holds up two fingers and signals that his item is a movie, Scooter following along with practiced, determined eyes. His clue is simple - he claps his two hands together, puckers his lips, and pretends to swim. 

"Finding Nemo!" Scooter stands up, pointing at Michael with his fingers. Michael taps his nose to signify Scooter getting the correct answer, and the two of them fall into a hug, roughly clapping their hands on each others' backs. 

"No!" At the sudden yell, Scooter and Michael jump apart, eyes wide as they stare at each other and then snap their gazes to where Chad's angrily sitting, face red as he glares the two roommates down. "They move as one fucking person! It’s not fair, bro. I’m not playing any more games in this fucking house if they get to be together. Play a singles game or some shit, I’m done watching these two win."

In all honesty, Michael doesn't feel the slightest bit called out. He knows he and Scooter have an advantage. They've been living in each other's pockets for years, know each other inside and out. He just doesn't care - and Scooter mustn't either if the way he wraps his arms around Michael's waist and cuddles his face into his neck are any sign. 

"Don’t be jealous, Chad," Michael tells him, nose raised in a faux-posh manor. "It’s unbecoming or whatever." 

Scooter giggles and the pleasant buzz that runs through his veins can't be blamed but anything other than his feelings for his roommate. Everyone has been taking shots and letting themselves get sloppy, but Michael's wanted to stay on top of the games. He makes a mental reminder to start drinking immediately. 

"Chad’s right, man," Adam unsurprisingly agrees. It's his first time speaking up since he nearly broke their Xbox controller. "You and Scooter clearly have some sort of  _ connection _ . It’s weird for just friends, isn’t it?"

Michael's brow dips as Scooter's breath hitches against his collar. He opens his mouth to say something back, but Luke speaks up, saving the day with a tragic idea. "What if we play, like, Scattergories." 

Scooter starts speaking, but it's difficult to understand, muffled by Michael's shirt. He pulls away, turning his head the other way. "Lukey, I’m gonna be real. You suggesting a game that involves thinking of words is just not on. You will lose, and you’ll end up being upset, and I’m too drunk to deal with you pouting." 

"I’m  _ smart _ ." Luke's frowning, and in the distance, Michael can see that Ashton is too. The only good thing is that Ashton won't act on anything, too afraid of outting himself as a loving soulmate. 

"Of course you’re smart, bro," Scooter agrees, nodding his head messily. "But like… smart for what you are."

"And what am I?"

Knowing exactly where Scooter's going with his insult, Michael answers, "The Village Idiot," at the exact same time as Scooter, prompting everyone in the room to groan. 

"I’m with Chad and Adam," Rob says suddenly. There's a grimace on his face, drenched in disgust. "They can’t be partners anymore. They're the same person."

Scooter frowns again, hands moving from Michael's waist to his neck, whispering in his ear, "They’re not taking you away from me." Shivers wrack Michael's body and his instinctively reached out to wrap around Scooter's hip. He responds by humming and melting into Michael's embrace. 

"Kevin, didn’t your mom get you that stupid game for your birthday?" Ashton asks Luke's roommate. "That really weird one you almost threw away?"

"Yeah, it’s called Deer Lord. It’s shit" 

"And we’re all drunk so nobody cares," Ashton rolls his eyes. Kevin's never really responded well to Ashton, preferring usually to take Luke's side in the whole ' _ will they/won't they _ ' game the soulmates are playing. It's been three years, but Michael himself knows that neither side will be victorious. Nobody wins in a game that pits two soulmates together. "Let’s play." 

"Anything is better than this," Chad agrees, throwing himself back so he's spread out on the floor, his hands folding on his stomach. 

Kevin's runs off, climbing the stairs two at a time as he makes his way to find the game. Michael reaches down in the meantime and takes a swig of the bottle of vodka Luke's been pouring his drinks out of. It's incredibly fruity, but goes down smooth enough as Michael takes a few shots worth. He looks over to see Chad still glaring at where Scooter's wrapped around Michael. 

"Stop whining, Chad," Michael says. "You have a bad name, don’t let your personality match it."

Scooter giggles into his neck, little puffs of breath tickling his skin. "It is a bad name." Michael joins him in laughing before the two start to take their seats on the floor again. Ashton's cleaning off the table so they can play cards, and a few people are heading up for the might leaving only eight or so of them for the game. Kevin comes down with the box and they get started on playing. The rules are confusing and Michael's drinking his beer quickly, wanting to blame something other than his own stupidity for why he feels so complete in Scooter's arms. 

The game is shit, Michael will contest to that. The rules are impossible to follow and the point system is flawed - maybe he's just drunk. He stays relatively quiet the whole game, doing his best to keep up with everyone, but when Luke plays down a duel card that says "Who can open their mouth the widest?" Michael decides he's had enough. 

"That's cheating!" He throws his cards down into his lap for dramatic effect, but it doesn't pan out. 

" _ What _ ?" Luke's giant fucking gob drops open at the accusation. "I just laid a card down?"

"You have the biggest mouth in the fucking world, dude. Nobody can beat you." In Michael's drunken brain, it wasn't meant to be an insult or a joke at all. It was an honest concern about the integrity of the game and the black hole of a mouth Luke Hemmings possesses on his unearthly misproportioned body. However, Michael's fucking funny and everybody appreciates it. Ashton immediately bursts out laughing, winding himself with how hard he loses it. 

Luke turns to him, eyes narrowed, and waits for Ashton to contain himself before spitting, "and who are you?" 

Ashton gradually stops laughing, and when he sees the intense and blasè look in Luke's eyes, his smile slips completely. He opens his mouth to say something, but then must think better of it and just smiles joylessly. "I’m off to bed then." He throws his cards down, having it slash through the multiple decks set up. 

"Dude, the game isn’t over," Rob shouts angrily at Ashton's retreating back. "If you leave we have to start over."

"Shame." 

The room holds itself in silence as Ashton's feet echo above them as he stomps to his room. Nobody dares to say anything until the door slams. At which point Adam throws his own cards on the table. "That’s fine by me, bro. This game sucks."

"I tried to fucking warn you," Kevin mumbles. 

As the rest of the remaining brothers start trying to figure out what to play now that Ashton’s left them, and Luke cleans up the mess with a frown on his face and a crease in his brow, Scooter cuddles into Michael’s side again, watching as Michael takes another swig from the vodka bottle, chasing it down with the rest of his beer. He’s definitely beginning to feel the buzz now, and he knows as soon as he tries to stand up, he’ll go crashing to the ground all over again.

“My dudes, what about Truth or Dare?” a voice asks. Michael can’t figure out who said or even attempt to say no because Scooter giggles against his neck and he forgets how to breathe. 

  
  


**~ C A L U M ~**

It was somebody’s stupid idea to start a game of Truth or Dare as if they’re in elementary school or something, but in all honesty, Calum couldn’t care less. Nobody’s called on him yet, and he feels content to just live the rest of his life in Mikey’s collar, mouthing secrets into his skin. 

So far, PJ’s stripped himself down to just his socks and a towel that will promptly be thrown away after this game, Kevin confessed to having a crush on TJ in their freshman year, and Chad ate the brown guacamole that’s been in the back of the fridge for a solid two weeks. It’s been wild to say the least, but the best part was tickling Mikey’s neck with his laughter and comments. 

It’s not until after Luke’s chosen truth and admitted his most embarrassing moment was when he opened his laptop in class and the rimming porn he was getting off to the night before started loudly playing on a frozen screen that Calum’s turn is up. “Scooter,” Kevin calls, eyes narrowed and a mean-looking smirk on his face. “I dare you to kiss Mikey for ten seconds.” 

Calum resists the urge to roll his eyes at just how fucking juveinile they all are turns to where Mikey’s watching him with shell-shocked eyes. Calum watches as they slip from looking at him directly down to staring at his lips. He can tell Mieky’s more than drunk with the way he leans in slightly, but Calum’s fucking wasted as well, so he figures why the hell not. 

It’s only everything he’s ever wanted, no big deal. 

When their lips first meet, it’s weird, different than what Calum’s used to in terms of Mikey’s kisses. Those are usually on the cheek, loud, and messy. This, though, this is fucking art. Mikey’s lips are plush and soft and move perfectly in time with Calum’s. In ten seconds, which goes by far too fast in his opinion, they barely do anything, just a few slides of their mouths together, not dry but no tongue. And it still hits them both hard enough that they pull away panting. 

Mikey’s usually bright eyes are a dark green, stormy where they track Calum’s tongue licking at Mikey’s taste on his own lips. “That was, um…” Mikey trails off, hand squeezing at the knee of Calum’s jeans. “You’re very good.” 

“Yeah…” Calum agrees. “You too.” They stare at each other, at their lips, in their eyes, at the desire pulling them both together like if they’re not touching the world will end. There’s an awkward cough in the background and Calum looks up to see his brothers staring at them. They can either pretend this never happened, go back to playing the game, and continue on like they’re not both hopeless for each other, or they can see how much better it gets when they’re alone. In an instant he makes up his mind. “Mikey and I are very tired.”

“Yeah…” Mikey agrees, copying Calum’s words from earlier. In his peripheral, Calum can see Mikey still staring at his lips and it spikes his temperature up a few degrees.    
“Gonna go upstairs for bed.” 

“Separate beds,” Calum clarifies. 

“Mhm.” 

He nods once at the group of disbelieving boys in front of him. “Thank you for understanding.” The words aren’t even out of his mouth before he and Mikey are launching themselves off the floor, racing up the stairs and approaching their room. They don’t make it all the way in before Calum’s control slips and he’s pouncing on his best friend. 

Neither of them are surprised when Calum leans in, but as their lips meet, they both gasp. Mikey melts into it, letting Calum’s lips close around his own, a desperate sound clawing its way out of his throat as electric shocks bite at them both. It’s wonderful, everything Calum’s been expecting, everything he’s wanted, and it only gets better when his back slams against the closed door, Mikey’s hand gripping at his shoulders, swallowing Calum’s moan. 

They continue like the night of the Lambda Nu dance floor, bodies moving perfectly against each other, only this time, Mikey’s tongue flicks into his mouth, and Calum’s never been so hungry for another person in his entire goddamn life. 

It ends too soon, though, Mikey pulling back as Calum sucks in a large breath. He leans in to kiss Mikey again, images of Mikey’s tongue in his mouth flashing behind his eyes, but he backs away, not giving into Calum. He pulls himself off the wall completely, head shaking like he’s upset with himself. “I can’t,” he whines. “…  _ Calum _ .” 

Mikey’s frowning at Calum’s chest, the word fell from his lips like it wasn’t meant to, and Calum’s left standing confused. “…  _ Mikey _ ,” he replies, wondering why they’ve stopped kissing. 

“…  _ Scooter _ .” Mikey’s nodding as if anything makes sense at all, but nothing does. With his rum-induced brain, all he can think about is Mikey’s soft lips on his and how that isn’t happening anymore. Just as he’s about to lean in and try again, another name joins the mix. 

“Ashton!” Calum’s head flicks over to the open door at the end of the hall, and sure enough, Ashton’s standing there, a bag of Cheetos in his hand, watching them with a grin on his face that’s far too friendly to be genuine. 

“ _ Yashton, _ ” Mikey yells back, arm throwing out in the other man’s direction, his voice a soft hum afterwards. 

“Ashton,” he repeats his own name, a finger pointing at himself. He then points at Mikey, instructing, “Mikey.” 

When Ashton’s finger flips to Calum, he doesn’t say anything, eyebrow raised in a question. Calum then points at himself. “Calum…” It feels like what he’s supposed to say, and Ashton grins like he’s said something right, but Mikey just nods seriously to himself, humming in agreement. He falls into Calum’s chest and it should feel weird after they’d just been choking on each other’s tongues, but it only ever feels  _ right _ being with Mikey. 

“You guys are fucking idiots,” Ashton scoffs, turning and heading back to his room, leaving the two alone in the desolate hallway. 

When Mikey finally feels alive enough to pull himself away, they make their way into the room, separately stripping of their clothes - Mikey taking an extra step to put fuzzy socks on his feet - and getting ready for bed. The lights stay off and they get under their own blankets, lying on their backs in the awkward silence - alcohol and adrenaline still rushing through their veins. This is the only excuse Calum gives himself to comment, “We pretending this never happened either?” 

The other side of the roommate is silent for far too long, and Calum begins to think Mikey’s fallen asleep until, “What would your soulmate think?” 

“I don’t think he’d care if I told him how hard my dick was right now,” Calum says back casually, glad to hear Mikey’s responding laughter before a pillow hits his wall and bounces onto his face. Things still aren’t back to normal, but it’s a break in tension that tells Calum everything will be alright… as soon as he sleeps this off. 

  
  


**~ M I C H A E L ~**

Very rarely in his adult life has Michael actually sat down with a cup of coffee in his hand. The caffeine is too much for him, and the taste is far too bitter. He refuses to drink it unless he needs it, and this morning, he  _ absolutely fucking needs it _ . 

It’s not that he’s hungover or stressed about school or exhausted from a night of studying and/or partying like every other time coffee’s made an appearance in his life prior to today. No, the only reason he’s swallowing this black sludge is because he’s so fucking frustrated at everything that happened last night, and pouring this toxicity down his throat feels like a pennance for his bad behavior. 

God fucking  _ dammit _ he just wants to meet his soulmate already. His life would be less complicated, and he could stop letting himself fall victim to his feelings for his roommate, and everything would just be  _ easy _ . Honestly, if he doesn’t meet Calum soon, he’s just going to have to let Scooter fuck away his sanity. He’s going to let Scooter wreck him for anybody else, and he won’t even feel guilty. The resistance he’s shown thus far is fucking remarkable. 

Speaking of Scooter, he’s sitting across the living room from Michael in a sweater all cuddled up looking fucking adorable. He has his phone in his hand and he’s scrolling mindlessly, his eyelids fluttering occasionally in his exhaustion. It takes all of Michael’s self control not to drool or like, confess his love like an idiot. 

He pouts at his inability to be able to do anything and stands up, making his way to the kitchen to dispose of the gross muddy coffee sitting at the bottom of his cup when he catches the tail end of a conversation between Kevin and Luke. 

“Fuck you, dude,” Kevin’s spitting at something Luke said as Michael makes his way to the sink. “Matt and I have  _ plans _ for that room.” 

Holding back a dirty comment, knowing better than to interrupt, Michael turns on the faucet, letting Luke continue their conversation, or argument, or whatever. “It's not my fault you didn’t sign up faster.” 

“Just do it in his room or some shit,” Kevin sighs. “You don’t need anything special. It's quick and easy.” 

Michael shuts the faucet off at that, not even pretending he’s not eaves dropping anymore. If they’re talking about what he thinks they are… “Finally gonna let Ashton tear your ass apart?” 

“Shit, I wish,” Luke groans. Mikey raises his eyebrows and Luke flushes. “Wish I knew who that person is, of course.” 

“What's going on then?” Michael asks, his smirk still on his face at the easy desperation Luke shows for his soulmate. “Who's quick and dirty?”

“Calum.” 

Luke rolls his eyes after Kevin’s comment, but Michael’s nearly pop out of his skull. “ _ What _ ?” 

“It's not like that, Mikey,” Luke insists, hands waving about like he’s not just casually discussing Michael’s fucking soulmate. “Don't get all worked up, I know you two are…  _ whatever _ .” Michael mouths the word ‘whatever’ alongside him, insulted at the disrespect. “Kevin's being a prick because Calum and I rented out the good study room in the library for a project we're working on, but he and Matt wanted to watch the meteor shower from there.”

“The walls are  _ glass _ ,” Kevin fights. 

“We have a fucking roof, man. Just go up there.” 

“It’s not the  _ same. _ ” 

The two continue their arguing, but Michael’s mind is only stuck on one thing, every other word in his head a flashing red  _ ‘Calum’ _ as he’s now finding out that not just Ashton, but at least  _ three _ of his brothers know Calum, and Michael’s left sitting in the dust like a fucking reject, waiting for a day that’s probably never going to come with Michael’s luck. 

“You know  _ Calum _ ?” he finally spits out, needing to say something instead of just gape like an asshole. 

Luke quirks an eyebrow at the question. “I…” He looks confused at the question, and honestly, fuck him for not understanding how inportant this is, all because he has such a weird relationship with his own soulmate. “Yes?” 

“How long?” Michael asks, needing to know the details. 

“Three years?” Luke answers, looking unsure of his own words. “Same as you.” 

The news makes Michael’s mouth drop open, appalled at the fucking  _ nerve _ of this guy. “You've known him as long as you've known me? And you've kept us apart?” 

“Mikey, literally nothing in the world could keep you and Cal apart.” 

He frowns at Luke’s patronizing words. He’s not wrong, is the thing, but none of it makes Michael feel any better about the fact that he’s the only person in the entire goddamn world that doesn’t know who Calum is. “So will you introduce me to him?” 

Michael’s expecting a date and time, and invitation to work on the project, maybe even a shrug and an ‘ _ I’ll try. _ ’ Something to acknowledge that Luke’s no longer going to let this distance sit between Michael and his one true person. What he  _ isn’t _ expecting is for Luke to burst out laughing alongside Kevin, a mocking smirk on his stupid face. “ _ Sure _ , Mikey,” he giggles. “I'll introduce you to Calum.” Kevin’s still laughing next to him as Luke nods his head like there’s some big secret, a conspiracy around everything that only Michael’s left out on. 

“Why don’t you want me to be happy?” 

“Believe it or not,” Luke tells him, words coming out alongside his cuckles, clearly still amused at making Michael’s life miserable. “My life doesn’t revolve around your happiness, dude. You can live without Calum for a night.” 

Feeling insulted, Michael turns and stomps out of the kitchen, but as soon as he sees Scooter curled on the chair, still scrolling through his phone, Michael gets a new wave of energy and storms back inside, hands slamming on the counter as his voice drops. “Just because  _ you’re _ okay with not being with your soulmate doesn’t mean _ I  _ have to suffer.” 

“Hey! What the fuck?” Luke shoots back instantly, all traces of humor gone from his face as a crease forms on his forehead. “I wanna be with my soulmate more than anything!” 

“Then just  _ be with him _ .” 

“I don’t know who he is,” Luke argues, and Michael’s never wanted to throttle a person more. “He’s never acknowledged me as a soulmate, so - ”

“You’re such a  _ dick _ !” Michael yells, storming out of the kitchen, chest on fire and nerves frayed. 

  
  


**~ C A L U M ~**

When the sound of Mikey’s shout echoes through the house, Calum jumps, the words “You’re a dick,” ringing in his ear like a morning alarm. He looks up to see Mikey stomping over to the large sofa and watches as he throws himself onto it with a dramatic cry. 

“You alright, man?” Calum asks, figuring he can’t be the tool that says nothing, especially not as Mikey’s best friend and unspoken-of first baseman. Mikey just groans in response, so Calum pushes further. “What was all the yelling about? Everything okay?” 

“Luke's a piece of shit.” 

Calum nods, not understanding the reasoning behind Mikey’s spite, but knowing that there’s definitely some ground to stand on. “What’d he do now?” 

“He knows my fucking  _ s _ oulmate and he wont introduce us,” Mikey whines, voice high and sad and it’s not usually an issue for Calum, but the words behind the tone leave him speechless. 

He knows he has to say something, knows he can’t just sit like an asshole as his best friend shares his deepest pain in their shared living room, but getting the words to roll off his tongue is a bigger challenge than it should be. Having to console Mikey about his soulmate is painful, but knowing that his soulmate is  _ right fucking there _ tears at his chest, threatening to take his heart and sink to the bottom of the ocean. 

“Who’s your soulmate?” 

“Calum,” Mikey bites. “Shut up.”

Not realizing that it was such a private matter for Mikey, Calum frown at the aggressive tone. “Sorry for asking.”

“No, don’t - ” he sighs, rolling to his back on the couch and staring up at the ceiling. “I know I've been a dick lately.  _ I'm  _ sorry.”

It doesn’t look like he’s done talking, so Calum waits a moment, but when nothing else is said, he adds some support. You know I'm here for you if you want to talk about anything. I'm more than just some dude you've lived with for three years and kissed once.” 

Mikey laughs softly and seeing it eases the tension in Calum’s chest. “Shut up,” Mikey says, far more gently than earlier. “That’s not how I think of you. You're my best friend, loser.” 

“So talk to me.” 

Mikey frowns again, but it’s less in sadness this time and looks more like concentration. His body turns so he’s facing Calum. “I don’t  _ feel  _ incomplete, like I'm supposed to,” he starts, completely contradicting what he’d say all those weeks ago in their room on the first day of classes. “In my lecture, the professor said that before we meet our soulmates, there’s this, like, subtle emptiness in us and shit. I thought that maybe I felt it the day he mentioned it, but I think I was mistaking my own longing for it or whatever.” 

When it looks like he’s not going to say anything else, Calum stands up, hopping over to the couch to get closer. He wants to be able to properly comfort his friend - not just sit in the chair and talk to him like a therapist. 

“So you don’t feel empty?” he asks, as he makes himself comfortable. It makes Calum feel a lot better, in all honesty. He never feels empty in this house, not when Mikey’s right there for him. 

“Nah, man,” Mikey answers. “I don’t think I do.” 

It’s selfish, but Calum’s mind immediately starts racing, questions burning in his head as he wonders if that means maybe Mikey just doesn’t want to meet his soulmate - maybe he’d be alright with just Calum. It’s either that or… 

“Do you think you already know him?” The question slips from Calum’s mouth without his permission. 

“Not a fucking chance,” Mikey laughs humorlessly. “I'd know his name.” 

“Well what's his name?” 

Mikey rolls his eyes, eyebrows narrowing as he does, making Calum regret ever thinking he could slip the answer from Mikey; especially when he’s feeling so emotional about it. “ _ Calum _ , are you serious?” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Calum apologizes, hands going up in his defense. “I'll stop asking.” 

“I think he’s just _so close_ ,” Mikey explains, face still annoyed at Calum’s questioning, but willing to move on from the topic. “Like, everyone in my life already knows him, you know? I just can't… I can’t _reach_ him.” 

“Sucks, dude.” 

It’s meant to help console him, but Mikey just whines, curling in on himself a bit. “I know. I just want to be over all this angst and shit.” 

Not for the first time in their friendship, Calum doesn’t know what to say. It feels like he can’t really relate. Anything he says is going to come off as ingenuous because he, himself, doesn’t get this  _ urge _ to meet his soulmate right this moment. He doesn’t need to when he’s living with the love of his life. 

Wanting more than that would be selfish. 

Instead of using his words, not wanting to upset Mikey further, Calum reaches out and runs his fingers through Mikey’s hair - the one sure fire thing to have the other boy melting into the cushions and letting his mind drift from his overwhelming thoughts. It hurts that Mikey’s so close to finding his One, but he has to have hope that he won’t just let Calum fall out of his life when it all finally comes together. 

As Mikey’s eyes are fluttering and he’s falling asleep, Ashton appears in the doorway between the dining room and the living room, a bag of swedish fish on his hand and a filthy smirk on his face. Calum feels himself glaring, already not like where this is heading. “Why don’t you go fuck your soulmate already?” he says quietly, letting venom sink into his tone. 

Annoyingly chomping his candy, Ashton grins even wider. “Why don’t  _ you _ ?” He walks away after his words leaving Calum confused and furious. 

  
  


**~ M I C H A E L ~**

Michael wakes up in a tangle of blankets and his own shame. He remembers last night a little too clearly for how drunk he let himself get, and it’s making him feel sick with himself. 

Lately, he’s been feeling sad about his friendship with Scooter, and it’s been affecting everything too noticeably. He remembers following him around last night at the party yelling, “That’s my  _ best friend _ !” anytime Scooter did anything at all. And whenever anybody had the nerve to take Scooter’s attention from him, Michael spent the next five minutes moping in the corner, wondering what was so wrong with him that Scooter didn’t spend every moment at his side. He was passive aggressive about it all, like he was marking Scooter as  _ his _ . 

Even if they are only friends. 

It’s not even the embarrassment that’s kept him bedridden all morning, though. He’s been through worse and he can get past it easily. The thing that’s taking up all his time and energy is his fear. He  _ knows _ he wants Calum - he knows nothing in the world will ever compare to being with your soulmate - but Scooter’s  _ right there _ . Scooter’s by his side every day, looking pretty, having big arms and a nice ass and the most beautiful brown eyes Michael’s ever fucking seen. That’s just the physical because Michael knows as soon as he starts complimenting Scooter’s personality, he’ll have to admit just how in love he is, and yeah, okay, he  _ is _ , but he can’t fucking  _ do _ anything about it. 

Not with Calum this close. Not with how  _ amazing _ it would for such a short time. 

Or maybe it wouldn’t be a short time, actually. He’s been making leaps and bounds to find Calum, so Calum should be making the same - he should be bombarding Luke and Ashton with insistence to meet Michael. And if he isn’t… then why the fuck is Michael trying so hard? 

When his thoughts start to give him a headache worse than any hangover ever has, Michael gets up, figuring he should use the bathroom before he wets the bed and then get started on his say. It’s as he’s washing his hands in the sink afterward that he looks up to see something black smudged on his shoulder. Looking closer, it’s clear that it’s a sloppily written ‘ _ Scooter _ ’ that has his heart cracking in two. It’s magic marker, so it washes off easily, but even so, he’s fucking  _ pissed _ . 

He stomps out, ready to throw himself into bed and have an anger-cry, but he’s stopped when he runs into Ashton who’s eating an apple and frowning at Michael’s rubbed-raw shoulder. “You washed it off.” 

With wide eyes, Michael’s gaze snaps down to his shoulder before going back to Ashton, feeling the rage burn in him. “That was  _ you _ ?” 

“Sure was,” Ashton grins, smugly chomping off a bite of his fruit as if he’d done something funny, something incredible, something that doesn’t show Michael another world that he doesn’t get to live in. 

“Why are you fucking  _ smiling _ ?” Michael yells, knowing very well his voice is echoing around the hallways. “This shit isn’t funny, Ashton.” 

Ashton takes a step back, clearly not expecting the rage. His smile falls at the emotion that clouds in Michael’s eyes. “Shit, I'm sorry man. I didn’t think you'd be so mad.” 

“Are you fucking serious?” Michael’s aware that he’s being incredibly loud, but he’s been on the edge all morning, and this has pushed him over. “You didn’t think I'd be  _ mad _ ? You know how upset this all has me, and you decide to play an immature prank thinking,  _ what _ , I'd find it funny to see everything I've ever wanted on my skin, only to wash away?” 

“I was just helping you see what's right in front of you,” Ashton rushes to explain himself. “I didnt think - ”

“ _ No _ , you didn’t,” Michael cuts him off. “You didn’t think, you never do. If you did, you'd see what's right in front of you and stop playing fucking games with your soulmate because you're  _ scared. _ ” As soon as the words come out of his mouth, he knows he’s gone too far, but he refuses to take it back. Both of them have crossed the line, and if Michael ends up locked in the pantry again, then so be it. 

Ashtons expression hardens, all pretenses of regret wiped clean from his demeanor. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

“Don’t I? Its be three fucking years of living with your soulmate and not acknowledging each other. It was funny at first but come  _ on _ , you have to know how fucking stupid this is, bro.”

“Watch yourself, Mikey. Theres only one idiot in the hallway and it's not fucking me,” Ashton threatens. Michael can only glare at him, knowing he’s one wrong word away from spending the weekend locked in a tiny cabinet. “You know what you want, and you're not listening to your heart because you’re caught up in a  _ name _ of all things. You're a goddamn idiot. Get your head out of your ass and maybe then I’ll consider taking your advice.” 

He leaves, shoving his shoulder against Michael’s before stomping down the hallway, apple in his hand. Michael’s left to stew in his own anger and pain, feeling regret for everything he’s ever done in his entire life, but understanding just where he stands in this Scooter or Calum conundrum. 

  
  


**~ C A L U M ~**

There’s never been a morning after a party that Calum’s enjoyed as much as this one. Sure, the house is tense, nobody’s really sure what to do with the emotions building up in their sensitive, six foot bodies, but last night Calum avoided getting drunk in order to keep a shitfaced Mikey from doing something stupid and managing to hurt himself. It wasn’t the most fun way to do things, but hearing Mikey consistently shouting “ _ That’s my best friend! _ ” at Calum’s every move was as flattering as it was a slap in the face. 

Now, though, Calum’s sat in in the living room with Luke, free of any sort of hangover, headache, or regret. There’s no tequila burning at his throat on it’s way up, no spinning room keeping him from going about his day. 

It’s just  _ nice _ . 

He’s sat in the arm chair, the one big enough to hold him and Mikey at the same time, and Luke’s on the sofa, long legs stretched out onto the coffee table. The entire house is relatively quiet, almost everybody still asleep to postpone the inevitable pain they’re destined to face after going too hard last night, so Luke and Calum are enjoying the silence and taking the time to discuss final decisions on their Choral Lit project before it has to be turned in. 

It’s just as Luke’s mentioning his overly-inclusive conclusion that includes points not even discussed in the essay, and Calum’s joking that they should just start from scratch, that Mikey’s voice echoes through the house. “ _ Why are you fucking smiling? This shit isn’t funny, Ashton. _ ” 

Luke’s mouth snaps shut before he even responds to what was said just prior, and Calum rolls his eyes. “There they go. Before noon and they’re already at it.” 

“What do you think they’re fighting about?” Luke asks. Calum chooses not to tease him about how overtly interested he seems in a petty argument between two brothers - something that happens all too often in a house filled with all this testosterone - just because Ashton’s involved in it. 

_ “Are you fucking serious?”  _

“Ashton probably said Mikey was the second most beautiful person in the world this morning,” Calum jokes. Luke starts giggling, the prerequisite to his loud, boisterous laughing, but it’s cut out by Mikey’s sharp voice, cracking through his anger. 

_ “You didn’t think I'd be mad? You know how upset this all has me, and you decide to play an immature prank thinking, what, I'd find it funny to see everything I've ever wanted on my skin, only to wash away?” _

Ashton’s response is muffled but at the yell, Luke hisses in air through his teeth. Calum’s at a loss for what the fuck could’ve caused a reaction this intense, but Luke seems to be more informed. “Looks like  _ someone’s _ prank went a bit haywire.” 

“What prank?”

_ “You  _ didn’t _ think, you never do. If you did, you'd see what's right in front of you and stop playing fucking games with your soulmate because you're  _ scared _!”  _ Calum’s question of the prank is completely forgotten, his head turning to solemnly look at where Luke’s staring blank-face at the wall, void of any emotion as they both overhear what’s clearly meant to be a personal argument. “ _ It’s been three fucking years of living with your soulmate and not acknowledging each other. It was funny at first but come on, you have to know how fucking stupid this is, bro.” _

The room is tense now, the fight pulling every molecule taught and taking all of the breath from their lungs. It’s too personal, too real, but Calum can’t sit like this. As a joke he says, “If you’d just say his name there’d be peace in this house.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Luke says monotonously, pausing for a beat too long before continuing. “Also, I’m going to win.” 

_ “Watch yourself, Mikey. Theres only one idiot in the hallway and it's not fucking me.”  _

“I was thinking of saying his name last year, but I think he likes the game.”

It’s clear that Calum’s attempt at a joke has evoked a much different reaction than intended, but if Luke’s going to talk about things seriously, Calum isn’t exactly going to stop him. “I think he’d like to eat your ass a bit more.” Luke chuckles at that, somber face breaking a bit. 

_ “Get your head out of your ass and maybe then I’ll consider taking your advice.” _

“I do want it to end sometimes… I really do.”

Calums lips thin in a smile, knowing that Luke’s being honest; unfortunately, he’s absolutely clueless on how to go about it. Calum wants to be the words of wisdom in his ear, encouraging to make his move, to say fuck it to the game, but soon there are feet pounding down the stairs, and they both know who it is. 

When Ashton enters the room, it’s clear he’s upset, that Mikey’s words really got to him, and he falls next to Luke on the couch, not saying a word, a half-eaten apple sitting uselessly in his hand. 

There’s a five second stretch that, 15 years from now, Luke will probably describe as the moment everything fell together. With Ashton in between them, Calum and Luke have a silent conversation full of eyebrows jumping and closed mouths. At the end of it, when they’ve both agreed that the time is right, Luke shrugs, leans in, and licks a stray line of apple juice off Ashton’s chin. 

Ashton’s gasp holds three things: disgust, a cough, and Luke’s name. “Luke!”

The moment after he says it, Luke and Calum sit up straighter, eyes wide as they grin at each other. Ashton’s still wiping at his chin as Luke looks around excitedly. There’s nobody aside from the three of them in the room, but there’s such victory is Luke’s gaze that Calum can’t help but laugh. 

It’s clear when Ashton realizes what he’s just done, his eyes getting wider as his gaze snaps between Calum and Luke. “I-I didn’t say that,” he rushes out. “That was Scooter!” 

“Bro…”

“You - you said it!” There’s such an unadulterated joy in his voice, something that usually only happens when he’s two tequila shots deep. “You said my name, you  _ lose _ .”

“No! That was cheating, that was - ”

Ashton’s protest is cut off by Luke’s repeating of his name. “Ashton, Ashton, Ashton,” there’s a smile on his face, but more surprisingly, Ashton’s face turns red as the words fall from Luke’s lips. He crowds into Ashton’s space. “You said my name, dick bag. Now you’re stuck with me.”

“You said my name too…” Ashton fights back, clearly trying not to smile and clearly failing. “... Asshole.”

Luke leans in and kisses him, Calum bearing witness to all of their firsts happening right in front of his eyes at eleven in the morning on a Sunday. It’s sweet at first, the two just smiling, laughing, and mumbling each other’s names every time their lips part, but it gets filthy quickly - squelching sounds and moans and whimpers, and Ashton’s hand  _ really _ going to town on Luke’s ass through his basketball shorts. Calum has to turn his attention to the television that isn’t even on, refusing to leave the common room just because the two dumbest men in the world finally got their shit together. 

Mikey comes downstairs halfway through Ashton’s consumption of Luke. He frowns when he sees the two, but as soon as he looks over to Calum, the smallest tilt to his lips lights up his face. 

\- - - - -

That night, Calum can hear Mikey murmuring to himself, tossing and turning in bed. The rumple of the sheets is distracting enough on its own, but with Mikey’s sad voice whispering words of discouragement, Calum can’t sleep. It’s an easy decision to pull the covers off of himself and slide out of bed, climbing into Mikey’s so he’s right behind him. 

“You're keeping me up,” Calum complains, trying his best to sound more annoyed than worried, not wanting Mikey to take the words as him trying to coax him into talking about whatever is bothering him. 

“Sorry, Scoot,” he whines. “I can’t turn my brain off.”

“I can help with that,” Calum says, Mikey humming in response. “Just close your eyes.” He can’t see, but Mikey’s being quiet, so Calum assumes he has. “Take a deep breath.” Calum can see the rise and fall of Mikey’s chest as he listens. “And think Luke thoughts.”

Mikey’s laugh is sudden, sputtering out the deep breath he’s just taken in. “We've been really mean to him lately, bro.”

“We've been honest. There’s a difference.” After Calum speaks, it gets silent, Mikey sighing out, his body tense in Calum’s hold. “Are you doing okay? You were quiet today.” 

Mikey shrugs in his grip, the movement shaking Calum’s bare shoulders. “Soulmate stuff.” It’s clear he wants to say more, so Calums tays quiet, letting his thumb slip under Mikey’s shirt to rub at his waist in support, to soothe him and let him know he’s alright to say what he wants. “I’ve been coming to some realizations about myself lately.”

“Care to share?” Calum asks, not at all surprised when Mikey shakes his head. “No?”

“No.”

“ _ No _ ?!” It’s said in mock outrage, something playful to lighten the mood, and Calum starts tickling Mikey, feeling his entire body get lighter as Mikey kicks out, giggles tumbling from his lips. Calum’s forced to hide the stupid, sappy, in-love smile on his face in the back of Mikey’s neck, too afraid he might say something stupid like ‘ _ you’re my everything _ ’ if he doesn’t. 

When his fingers finally cease, Mikey continues his soft chuckles, still grinning as he slurs out a tired profession. “You're the most important person in my life, Scooter.” It’s said like an aftermath, but Calum hums to show he heard and cuddles deep into Mikey. They fall asleep spooning and wake up the same. 

  
  


**~ M I C H A E L ~**

The sun rises, shining brightly on the door, and Michael wakes feeling just a little  _ too _ good. He's currently the little spoon in a Scooter cuddle, which is absolutely the best way to wake up, and he's never felt more content. 

There's only one tiny situation, nothing too worrisome especially since Scooter's plastered to his back and is completely unaware of just how fucking hard Michael's dick is. He wants to say he has no idea why he's so ready to blast off first thing in the morning, but Scooter's letting out soft warm puffs against his neck, arm wrapped tight around his middle, and if Michael moves just right, then… 

_ Yeah _ , Scooter's hard too. 

His shifting must've rubbed right against Scooter as he shifts his own hips then, a moan slipping wetly against the back of Michael's neck as he ruts forward. It jolts Michael enough to have his dick sliding just barely against the sheets. He grinds backwards and Scooter grunts, almost rolling on top Michael to rut down. Michael has to grip the sheets in his fist - it feels too good and it's taking his control away, having him whining as he rubs himself off against the mattress. 

Scooter must wake up at the sound of Michael's moan because he pulls away suddenly, leaving Michael's entire body cold and aching, so fucking close to something incredible. "Sorry," he says after a moment of incredibly tense silence sits between them. "Didn’t mean to… sorry." 

"I… it’s okay," Mochael assures him. It's not just the blood pulsing in dick, it's not just the fire burning in his veins - Michael figured it out yesterday. He's done keeping Calum in his thoughts. The idea that there's someone out there made for him means nothing when Scooter's been here the whole time. It's absolutely impossible to think of someone  _ better _ for him than Scooter, and Michael isn't going to wait around just for such a small chance. He wants Scooter. "You can… I want it. Want you." 

There's no response for a moment and Michael holds his breath that Scooter's going to lean in and pick up where they left off. But then the words come and Michael's heart shatters in his chest. 

"… What would your soulmate think?"

  
  


**~ C A L U M ~**

After giving himself some time to cool off for coming so close to grinding his dick to dust against Mikey’s ass, Calum decides once and for all that nothing is ever going to happen between them. He has to come to terms with the fact that Mikey wants his soulmate more than he wants Calum, and that by constantly letting his feelings take the wheel, he’s driving himself insane. They’re meant to be in each other’s lives, but only platonically, and it’s time Calum get that through his thick skull - no matter how much it kills him. 

He’d rather have Mikey in his life as a friend than as a spurned lover or whatever. 

Not wanting to face the situation on his own, Calum decides to confide in a friend. He chooses Luke as his target because Ashton never understands Mikey’s point of view, and everyone else in the house is a little too out of the loop. Besides, Luke’s just smart enough to give advice, but he’s on the dumb side with it, meaning Calum doesn’t have to worry about his decision being swayed. 

Right now, Calum’s pounding on the bathroom door. He’s been standing outside of it for a solid five minutes after he watched Luke tiptoe his way inside. That was weird enough of his own, but it’s been a decent amount of time and Calum’s patience is wearing thin. 

“Luke?” Calum’s voice yells as his fists rest for a minute. “You almost done, bro?”

There’s a whine, but no response, so Calum resumes his pounding. He only stops when Luke finally yells back, “Fuck  _ off _ , Scooter. I'm in the middle of something.” 

“I just need to talk to you for a minute,” he explains. 

“Can it  _ wait _ ?” The hostility is a bit of a surprise seeing as one time Luke climbed into Calum’s shower to ask for advice on a song he was writing. Calum answered all of his questions and it was a completely normal moment, all things considered. Being shut down so quickly feels out of character. “I just need some alone time.” 

“Not really,” Calum tells him, leaning against the door now, feeling desperate for help. “Like, it could, I guess, but I might end up throwing myself out a window.”

“Do that then.” 

Calum frowns at his dark tone, not liking how easily he’s being dismissed. “Don’t be rude, piss stain. I need a friend.” 

“Sc… scooter,  _ fuck _ .” Luke’s panting, having trouble getting his words out, and Calum’s really beginning to reconsider the idea of taco night if the rice and beans are really going to hit some of the brothers this bad. “I really just don’t have any fucki..ng time right now.” He caps off his sentence with a long, low moan. 

“Hurry up and finish shitting, dude. This is urgent.” 

There’s a  _ thud _ , a sigh, and then feet pounding that gets louder the closer they get to the door. When the door is thrown open - Calum having to catch himself from collapsing at the suddenness of it - he’s shocked to see an infuriated Ashton behind it, lips wet and rose pink, Luke’s wrecked face barely visible where it’s leaning against the wall, pants around his ankles. “There no one available to come to the phone right now as Luke's getting his ass eaten. Please leave a message after the - ” the door slams, cutting off the rest of the sentiment. Three seconds later, Luke’s crying out before the moans are muffled. 

Maybe it’s a bit weird how close they are, Calum considers, when he thinks about how he’s more upset that he can’t talk to Luke than he was to see how they were destroying the communal bathroom. 

  
  


**~ M I C H A E L ~**

It feels like now that Michael's finally accepted his feelings for Scooter, finally gotten over the Calum-related hang up that had him so confused about everything, Scooter's starting to back off. They still get along well and spend their every moment together laughing, but there’s a line, now. It's nothing too severe, but Scooter doesn't respond to Michael's cuddles as easily and he's stopped giving Michael the dirty smirks that feel like they're in on something together. 

It's like now that Michael's finally ready to give into his feelings, Scooter's gone and decided that they're only friends. It fucking sucks. 

He wants to turn to Ashton for advice. As much as they fight, Ashton's known Scooter more than half of his life, and he'd have more insight as to what he could do to get through the shields being put up. Unfortunately, everytime Michael goes to talk to Ashton, the other man's mouth is busy eating Luke's ass. It's been five consecutive days of this, and they show no sign of stopping. 

Michael just has to deal with this on his own. 

  
  


**~ C A L U M ~**

"Dude, he genuinely is the dumbest person I’ve ever met." The monotony of parties is something Calum knows he's going to get sick of eventually, but for now, standing around Matt in a crowd as he makes fun of Doobley from Delta Gamma, he can see himself loving this for a long time. "We had a project together in our Criminal Investigation class and he spent our entire room time reading through the instructions." Everyone chuckles. "He finally started to understand everything and stands up like ‘ _ Same time tomorrow _ ?’”

That makes everyone laugh harder - Calum included. "I once watched him try and do a keg stand on an untapped keg."

And the crowd loses it. Kevin in particular is letting the words him the hardest, tears forming in his eyes. "The man is fucking stupid. God bless Delta for taking him in."

Calum’s about to open his mouth to add something on when across the house, Ashton is shouting " _ Scooter _ !"

"That’s my name!" 

"Come here and play a game with us." There's a shit ton of people flooding the kitchen, each of them with at least one drink in their hand. It looks like it's going to be messy, but Calum doesn't have any classes tomorrow, so he figures there's no harm in getting a little sloppy. 

"Yes, sir, my guy," he hollers back, tipping a fake cap and making his way out of the living room. 

On his path, Mikey finds him, latching around his waist, face planting itself in his neck as he hums, "My Scooter." 

"Hey, Mikey." Calum feels stiffer than usual. He smiles, but knows that it doesn't meet his eyes. He's decided to give up on any romantic hope he has for Mieky, but it's a fucking challenge. "You say hi to everyone?" 

"Just want to be with you," he sings, "Don’t need everyone else." Calum almost pauses in his steps. He doesn't think Mikey's drunk, doesn't think they've been at the party for long enough, but with the way he's leeching onto Calum and speaking so softly, Calum thinks he might just be completely fucking gone. "Hey, let’s go upstairs for a bit and talk."

Calum lets any humor drop from his face. He knows what that can lead to, especially if Mikey  _ does _ happen to be drunk, and he needs to be more wise about letting himself fall into their old dynamics. "No, I’m good."

Mikey opens his mouth to say something but PJ's loud voice cuts him off as they walk past the threshold and into the kitchen. “Let’s play Never Have I Ever!”

  
  


**~ M I C H A E L ~**

"Let’s play Never Have I Ever!"

PJ's request is met with a few cheers and mostly groans. It's an elementary game, sure, but they've done far more childish and far less fun. Michael's drink is full, so he doesn't make a move to refill it, only nods his head alongside his brotherhood and their guests, leaning against the counter next to a stone-faced Scooter.

"I want to start!" A particularly excited Lambda Nu shouts, jumping off where she was sitting on the table. "Never have I ever…" she trails off, thinking for a moment before her eyes fall on one of her sisters and she smirks. "Never have I ever made out with someone from my greek house." 

Michael can see the sister's jaw fall open, eyes holding betrayal in them, as he takes a swig of his beer. He turns to catch the tail end of Scooter rolling his eyes before he's drinking from his own cup. He's also steadfastly ignoring Michael standing next to him, which is just incredibly rude seeing as Michael's the entire reason he got to drink for that one. It feels like a bigger punch to the gut when Michael leans into him, but Scooter subtly takes a step away. 

"Hey…" Michael timidly taps their shoulders together, not liking the tension between them. "Are you mad at me, dude?" 

"No," Scooter answers, not moving his eyes away from wherever he's been looking. "I just think you’re too drunk to make smart decisions right now." 

Michael frowns, looking down at his nearly full glass of pretty weak beer. He hasn't even started feeling it yet, let alone begun to let it make his decisions for him. "I’ve had one beer, man. What do you mean - "

"Never have I ever…" TJ's loud voice booms in the kitchen, cutting off Michael's question. "Used somebody else’s toothbrush without telling them." 

In spirit of the game, Michael drinks honestly for the time he used Ashton's when his fell in the garbage can full of tissues. Scooter doesn't drink, but he does turn to Michael, any sign of light gone from his pretty face. "I’m not mad, then. I just think you need to stay loyal to your soulmate." 

"That’s not fair," Michael loudly protests, frown deepening even further. 

"Never have I ever… been arrested," a deep voice fades into the background. Neither Scooter or Michael take a drink, both too busy glaring and scowling at each other to really pay attention.

"It really fucking is, Mikey," Scooter argues, voice rising for a moment before it hushes again, keeping things private between the two of them even in this crowded kitchen. "I’ve spent three years chasing you, but you’re so obsessed with this nameless soulmate of yours that you won’t give me the time of day."

"Nameless?" Michael gasps, affronted and offended that Scooter keeps fucking forgetting his soul mate's name despite the fact that Michael sighs it dramatically on a day-to-day basis. It's like he doesn't pay Michael any mind. "Calum - "

"Look, I don’t need to know," Scooter snaps, one hand immaturely coming up to plug his ear as if it'll make him forget the fact that Michael's just said it. "It’s your business. I’d just like to be able to move on."

"Move on?" 

There's a rush of blood to Michael's head, and it's the last quick thing that happens, everything else suddenly turning slow motion for the next thirty seconds. Scooter places his hand on Michael's shoulder. "I like you a  _ lot _ , but it’s been - "

Scooter's voice is drowned out by Chad's loud, "Whose turn is it?"

" - think you’re being honest about your - "

"Calum’s," Luke answers, and immediately Michael's head snaps up, eyes wide and heart pounding 

" - and it’s not fair to either - " Scooter's heartbreaking talk down has completely fallen to the back of Michael's mind, too busy looking around in search of his soulmate, his  _ Calum _ , here in his home at his party, in close proximity to Michael - probably not for the first time. "Mikey? Are you even listening to me?"

"Hey!" A voice tells, interrupting Scooter's inquisition and Michael's search. It's the excitable Lambda Nu that started the game off and she's looking in their direction. "Calum!" 

Scooter looks up at the call, head going straight towards where the Lambda Nu was yelling. "What?" 

There's some conversation going on between them, something about the game, something completely irrelevant to Michael's life, but he doesn't hear it, can't comprehend any words other the ' _ Calum' _ and ' _ What' _ and the order they came in, who they were directed to, and who responded. Because with the facts laid out in front of him, if Michael is even a fraction as deductive as he thinks is, then that means Scooter, his best friend and roommate, the one person he ever envisioned being in his life forever, has just acknowledged himself as  _ Calum _ , a name Michael's had on his body for the past six years. 

It has to be a misunderstanding, too fucking insane to be true. His mind is racing, unable to keep up with any conversation, with the game, and all that he can do is scream an incredibly delayed and overwhelmingly intense, " **_What_ ** ?" 

Half of the room startles, but Scooter-maybe-Calum  _ jumps _ , flinching at Michael's volume. He turns to stare at him, eyes wide in surprise. "What?"

"Did you just…" He's aware he's making a scene, that he has the attention of everybody in the kitchen, looking like he's just seen a ghost and an angel, body shaking in his disbelief. "Why did you…"

He can't seem to get his words out, stuttering like a fool as his thoughts all attempt to make their way out at once. Rob notices and groans, but it doesn't do anything to stop Michael's racing mind. "Shut up, Mikey. Let Calum take his turn."

And there's that name again -  _ Calum _ \- spoken so casually as though it isn't everything Michael's ever wanted. 

Scooter turns away from Michael and raises his glass. "Never have - "

"Your name is  _ Calum _ ?" Michael spits, still somehow still astonished at everything unfolding. It's like a fever dream - as though Michael's going to look down and be completely naked with an unfinished class presentation in his sweaty hand. Across the room, Michael hears Ashton's mocking laughter echo once, but Michael can't focus on anything other than Scooter/Calum's sinking brow. "Why did… Is that really your name?" 

There are a few chuckles that float awkwardly through the crowd of them but Scooter/Calum only frowns, hurt swimming in his eyes. Michael's at a loss for what to do because as much as he hates being the reason his best friend is feeling so low, he needs to know. 

"Dude," his voice is low, leaning in toward Michael, eyes shifting cautiously to everybody watching them. "What the fuck are you playing at? It’s been Calum for three years." 

"No, it fucking hasn’t," Michael yells back. He can't believe what he's hearing. "It’s been  _ Scooter _ for three years."

"My name’s on our roommate agreement, bro. You’ve signed it every September for three years."

"I don’t fucking read those!" His hands go up into his hair, messing up what he'd spent so long perfecting only hours ago. "You know that!"

Scooter's beautiful eyes are wild in their surprise and uncertainty. "Why does it matter?" He asks, no sense of what's fighting around Michael's head. "Why are you yelling at me? It’s your own damn fault you didn’t know."

"My  _ soulmate’s _ name is Calum," Michael explains, not paying attention to anything other than his own brain trying to sort the mess in front of him out. "My soulmate is…" he trails off, eyebrows rising to the top of his forehead and a beautiful, astounded laughing falling from his worry-bitten lips. "Fuck, Scooter -  _ Calum _ , shit," he has correct himself realizing that Scooter is probably just some dumb nickname and not his  _ actual _ name. "You’re my… we’re - "

As quickly as Michael's been reduced to giggles and excitement, Calum's eyes narrow, pinning Michael in their heat. "Don’t fucking play with me."

"No, really, it…" Michael rushes to defend himself, only three seconds away from bending over, pulling his underwear down, and showing Calum where his name sits on Michael's bare ass. "It says Calum, and you’re… That’s you name, right?"

"You’ve been fucking me around for three years, all because you thought my real name was Scooter?" Calum demands, fury dripping from his tongue. " _ Whose _ real name is Scooter? That’s not a real fucking name! We could’ve - "

"Hey, dudes," TJ interrupts, drawing Michael and Calum's attention to the fact that this has all unfolded in front of everyone. "Maybe you should take this upstairs?" 

Before Michael can make a decision himself, or really even understand what's been asked of him, Calum's thick fingers wrap around his wrist and  _ tug _ , dragging him towards the stairs. As giddy as he is about the situation, the rough treatment is nothing, not when it's his soulmate, his best friend, his  _ Scooter  _ taking him away. 

  
  


**~ C A L U M ~**

Leaving the party behind, Calum lets himself feel angry, beyond fucking pissed, about everything. It’s been three fucking years, and all of this drama could’ve been avoided if his soulmate had even the slightest bit of common sense. Mikey’s giggling behind him as Calum drags him up the stairs. He’s acting like this is all some funny accident, and not like he’s the dumbest fucking person in the world, like he didn’t go three years with the ability to say something about them being soulmates, but not realizing all because he didn’t bother to learn Calum’s real name. 

He though  _ Scooter _ was Calum’s birthname… because he’s fucking dumb. 

“I can’t fucking believe you,” he spits out, knowing that Mikey can hear the malice in his voice, but he only giggles along. 

“I know, right?” he agrees, body right up behind Calum’s as though this is just another day. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

If Calum weren’t already head over heels in love with Mikey - all on his own accord, no sway of the universe behind it - he thinks maybe something like this could be a bad fight, something nasty and biting to last them a few weeks as they recover from the pain they’ve been through with this mix-up. But as it is, Calum’s always been a fool for Mikey, and if he’s feeling angry now, it’s only right that’s he’s equally as turned on. 

“Yeah. you fucking are,  _ bro _ ,” Calum says, letting all his fury slip into his tone. Despite it being something that, in a few days he’ll say is a misunderstanding, he finds himself genuinely upset. He’s still exuberantly happy, thrilled that he’s found his forever in the one man he loves most, but he can’t help to be blown away by Mikey’s stupidity. 

Completely oblivious to Calum’s tone, Mikey’s jumping around, giggling in excitement as they approach their room. “This is  _ insane _ , dude,” he laughs as Calum turns the handle. “To think we’ve both been living with our soulmate for three years and we didn’t even know.” Calum frowns, walking into the room as Mikey follows. “It’s just - ”

The very moment the door is shut, Calum's turning around and shoving Mikey into the wood. Their lips meet roughly, Calum not wasting any time slipping his tongue inside his best friend’s mouth. It throws him back to when they were grinding, when they were kissing, when they almost fucked, and Mikey turned him down. Now though, he has no reason to, doesn’t want to, and he fucking melts into the door and Calum’s grip. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he moans, voice a silver bell that hit’s Calum’s chest with a jolt. “We’re really doing this.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses. 

It’s been three years of longing, three years of foreplay, three years of not fucking  _ anybody _ becuase the only person Calum wanted to be with, he thought was off limits. He’s been waiting for this, shaking in his need - he’s been edging for  _ three fucking years _ \- and Mikey’s groans are going to kill him. Every time Calum licks into his mouth, when Calum’s fingers squeeze at his waist, as Calum thrusts against him, Mikey’s melodious whines echo around their bedroom. If he has to listen to Mikey talk as well, Calum may end up grinding to completion against his soulmate’s hip. 

And as hot as that is, it can’t be his first time. 

“Calum…” 

“Yeah?” Calum asks inbetween nibbling at his lip. 

“ _ Calum, _ ” Mikey moans louder this time, overindulgent in his cries. 

Pulling back, Calum studies Mikey’s flushed face, the blotches of read on his cheeks and the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. He’s a fucking vision, and if he wasn’t just saying Calum’s names, he would be on his knees in an instant. “What? What is it?”

Mikey licks his lips, gaze dropping down to Calum’s. He smirks and it’s like the air is punched out of Calum. “Just fucking love your name.” 

“I’m glad you finally fucking learned it.” 

Mikey giggles and Calum feels a small bit of annoyance building back up at the sole fact that they could’ve been doing this for so fucking long, yet here they are - three years later - only just now knowing they belong together. 

Instead of yelling like Calum wants to, knowing it won’t be productive, knowing the words won’t get through his thick skull, he throws all of his anger into kissing Mikey, rutting his hips into the door until he’s fucking liquid, holding tightly to Calum’s shoulders as he just takes what he’s being give. 

“M-more,” he pleads. He’s stopped responding to the kissing, not able to move his lips much more than to whimper a few words as it’s dropped open at the pleasure. He’s having trouble taking in breaths and his entire body is trembling as Calum’s hips fuck against his, the door behind him stopping him from doing much else but just  _ feel _ . “Please, Calum, I - ”

They can’t stay here all night, not with Calum’s dick as hard as it, not with Mikey moments away from letting himself go completely. Calum pulls away, perhaps a bit too abruptly, and Mikey almost drops to the floor - Calum having to grab his shoulders to stop him from completely collapsing. “Bed?” 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Mikey head taps gently against the wood behind him as he sighs. “Yeah. Let’s… there’s lube in my - ”

“I know.” Calum huffs, letting his momentarily vanished annoyance building back up. He feels a bit affronted that he knows Mikey so well, knows where his lube is stashed, knows everything about him, but Mikey didn’t even know his fucking  _ name _ . 

As Mikey’s pulling his sweats and t-shirt off, Calum walks over to his side of the room, reaching up and pulling one of his snapbacks off the wall, where it’s displayed with the rest of his collection. Every brother in the frat has one of these, a black hat with yellow writing - the Zeta Psi symbol on the bill with their names written on the front of it. Instead of putting Scooter on it, they put the name in which you’ll be referred to whilst applying for jobs in the future. It’s a traditional souvenir mostly used as a networking tool. It’s been hanging above his bed for two years and a half years, right in Mikey’s eyeline. 

As he turns around, eyes rolling again as he thinks about how fucking stupid Mikey really is, he has to pause to take in just how fucking  _ hot _ his soulmate looks, kneeling on his bed, looking curiously at the snapback in Calum’s hands. “What’s that?” 

“My hat,” Calum explains, flipping the item once in his hand and then looking down at it consideringly. “Says my name on it.” 

Mikey mouths ‘ _ Calum _ ’ as he takes in the writing on the front of it. “Where’ve you been hiding it?”

“In this  _ fucking _ room,” Calum bites, unable to keep the anger from slipping into his tone. “For two years, dude.” Instead of reading the room, Mikey only giggles a bit, really trying his hardest to test Calum’s patience. 

“Man, I really am clueless some - ”

Calum slaps the hat onto Mikey’s head backwards to stop him from saying anything that’ll reverse the progress they’re making, and wraps his hand around the back of Mikey’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. 

It’s somehow only gotten dirtier since they moved from the door, teeth biting lips, tongues exploring every bit of each other.  _ Hands _ , gripping and pulling, fighting for a chance to just  _ feel _ what they’ve been depriving themselves of three years. It’s not until Calum sucks on Mikey’s earlobe, eliciting a whine from him, that he realizises they can’t last like this forever, not after the road they took to get here. 

He pulls away, leaning backwards and away from the bed, asking, “Wanna get on your knees for me?” 

“Already on them.” Mikey’s smirking, and it’s been so long of games between them that Calum can’t take it. 

“God, you’re so fucking difficult sometimes.” He rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands, seeing stars in his frustration, but Mikey just laughs. 

“Yeah, but you’ll fuck it out of me, so…” 

Ignoring the comment, Calum opens the side table drawer, pulling lube out and placing it on the sheets. When he turns, Mikey’s on all four, grinning up at Calum. He sighs in relief. “Thank you.” 

“I can be a good boy when I want to.” He shrugs and Calum regrets ever meeting him. 

“Fuck off.” 

Never one to take anything seriously, Mikey starts wiggling his hips, covered ass shaking as Calum approaches, making him realize that neither of them are completely naked. He strips himself of his clothes, making Mikey wait just a bit longer, and then leans down on the bed. With strong hands around Mikey’s belly, Calum stops him from wiggling, grabs his waistband, and peels it down. It’s not until he has the fabric on the floor that he looks up and sees his own name staring back at him in bold script. 

“ _ Mikey _ ,” he gasps, reaching up to trace it, his finger feather-light against the skin of Mikey’s cheek, bring a small sigh out of him. “Should’ve let me see it sooner, baby. Would’ve told you it was me.” Mikey hums but otherwise doesn’t say anything, letting Calum stare in awe as he feels every inch of the black writing marking Mikey as his. It’s everything he’s ever dreamed of and  _ more _ . “Want me to fuck you?” he asks, feeling a sudden urgency to get things moving forward.

Mikey nods, his head pressing down into the bedding beneath him. “ _ Calum _ ,” he moans, and it’s music. He never wants to hear the name  _ Scooter _ come out of his mouth ever again. 

Reaching over, Calum grabs the lube he brought with him and uncaps it, drizzling the cold substance over his fingers and rubs them together to warm them up. As irritated as he is that Mikey didn’t even know his name, and as eager as he is to finally fuck his roommate, this is still their first time, and Mikey’s his entire world. He doesn’t want anything ruining this, not even something as minute as cold lube. 

When he presses his fingers against Mikey’s hole, he lets out a sigh accompanied by ‘ _ finally. _ ’ Calum has to stop himself from smirking so he can focus on the task at hand. He traces Mikey’s hole a few times before the first finger starts to make its way in. Calum knows he’s never fucked anybody else, insistant on saving himself for his soulmate, but there’s no doubt that he’s fingered himself before - a thought that drives Calum absolutely fucking insane - as Mikey relaxes, helping Calum’s finger slide in. 

The first finger is always the hardest, Calum knows this from experience, and he’s met with a lot of resistance, but he’s determined to make Mikey feel good. Within moments of being inside, Calum’s searching out Mikey’s prostate. It’s not an easy search and Mikey huffs out a few too many ‘ _ it’s okay _ ’s and ‘ _ not quite _ ’s, but when he finally finds it, rubbing a maddening circle around it, Mikey lets out a sweet, airy moan, and his body completely melts under Calum’s hands. Calum takes the opportunity to press in a second finger, stretching them wide and turning Mikey into putty. 

“ _ Fuck, fuck, fuck _ ,” Mikey whines, body throwing itself backwards onto Calum’s fingers, riding out the feeling. Calum stops the attack on Mikey’s prostate then, only using it as a tactic to help him loosen up, and starts opening him up with his two fingers. Mikey curses as the pressure is released, but Calum doesn’t want him cumming too soon, at least, not until Calum’s gotten his dick in him. 

It quickly turns from Calum using his fingers to drive Mikey crazy, to Mikey going completely lax, just taking what he’s being given, and Calum thinks it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen - and when he looks to see his name staring back at him on his soulmate’s skin, he  _ knows _ it’s the hottest. And as much as he loves this, he can’t wait to have the roles reversed some day, to be at the mercy of Mikey’s hands, to submit to his own arousal quick and boneless. It’s exactly what’s happening to Mikey, and when Calum adds yet another finger, Mikey’s body tenses for all of two seconds before his body is jelly and whines are falling out of his mouth. 

“How’s it feel, bro?” Calum jokes. His three fingers are pressing in deep, spreading wide, and pulling back out in quick movements that leave Mikey crying out. 

“Fuck -  _ oh _ .” His voice chokes out quietly. Calum’s cleverly avoiding his prostate, managing to slide his fingers against it every once in awhile only to pull them away and look up at Mikey, amusement dancing behind his eyes. “Fuck  _ off _ .” Though he sounds annoyed, he doesn’t do anything but lean forward and take what Calum’s giving to him, completely useless and at Calum’s mercy, reduced to all of this by just three thick fingers. 

When he pulls them out abruptly, Mikey gasps, body falling back, chasing the fingers. His hole clenches where it’s pink, stretched around nothing. 

“You fucking prick,” Mikey laughs breathlessy. His body is swaying and Calum’s mesmerized as he adjusts to not having Calum’s fingers inside him. “Get your dick in me.”

“You look fucking good like this, Mikey,” Calum says as he reaches into the drawer for a condom. “So fucking worth the wait.” 

Mikey hums, sitting back on his knees, grabbing the foil square from Calum’s hands and ripping it open with his teeth and pulling it out like it’s a party trick. His eyes are calculated as he reaches down, soft hand wrapping around Calum’s dick and making his hips jump. He rolls it down quickly, no hesitancy or teasing in his movements, like he’s just as eager as Calum is to finally do what they’ve been waiting for. 

“How do you - ”

“Should we - ”

They both start at the same time, making each other laugh at how awkward it would be if they weren’t best fucking friends that were made perfectly for each other. 

Mikey’s the one who ends up leading the charge. He places his hands on Calum’s shoulders and pushes him towards the headboard. “Sit,” he instructs, and Calum follows, leaning against the board, stretching his long legs in front of him as Mikey adjusts the snapback resting on his head. Mikey straddles him, hands going on Calum’s shoulders, soft grin on his face. “Could’ve been doing this three years ago.” 

“Whose fault is that?” Calum asks, but he can’t help to smile. He doesn’t feel much anger anymore, especially when Mikey’s hand reaches down, gripping the base of Calum’s cock, and guides it to his hole. As he bears down, letting the head push just past the rim, Calum’s hands clench at the sheets below him, not expecting the sudden wet heat. He’s just had his fingers in Mikey, but he was not at all prepared for just how  _ tight _ he is, an unforgiving grip, squeezing the life out of Calum through his dick. 

Looking up, he notices that Mikey, too, is having trouble adjusting. His face is scrunched together, cute nose wrinkling along the bridge as he sucks in deep breaths through his teeth. It hits Calum then that as ready and impatient that they were for this, it’s still the first time for both of them, and it’s a  _ lot _ to handle. 

Calum’s hands move gently around Mikey’s waist, noticing the shakiness of Mikey’s thighs as he tries to keep himself from taking too much of Calum too soon. “So tight, Mikey,” Calum comments, needing to say something to keep himself from the noncommunicable groaning that wants to spill out. 

“T-Thanks, dude,” Mikey says, giggle coming out at his casual words, the moments making him drop down a bit further. “Oh  _ shit _ . That’s big.” Calum knows better than to take it as a compliment - he’s no bigger than average - it’s just that Mikey’s not used to being fucked, so everything must feel more intense now. 

“You’re taking it so well,” Calum says. He settles his hands on the curve of Mikey’s waist and his thumbs are rubbing soft circles into the smooth skin stretched across his hip bones.“Halfway there.” Mikey takes a deep breath, and as he exhales, he slowly drops down, continuing until Calum’s completely sheathed inside and Mikey’s ass is cradled by his hips. Mikey lets a few curses slip, stomach flexing as he tries hard to breathe through the adjustment. 

Realizing that they both need a distraction, Calum wraps his hand around the back of Mikey’s neck and pulls him in for a kiss, letting himself swallow every moan and groan Mikey makes as he adjusts to being so full. 

After they’ve been kissing for a moment, Calum suddenly hisses as Mikey starts rotating his hips. It’s not much, just an occasional movement, but then there’s some intent behind it. He starts with slow, small circles, like he’s prepping himself for the long haul, and makes his way up to wider figure eights as Calum latches onto his neck, biting down but never sucking quite hard enough to leave a mark. He needs something to do, so he doesn’t fuck up too roughly and actually hurt Mikey. 

“ _ F-fuck _ ,” Mikey moans suddenly, his eyes catching Calum’s, and Calum is almost startled at how wrecked Mikey already looks and sounds. He starts to really move, then, raising himself up and then sinking back down in tiny motions, and Calum groans at how fucking good it feels to have his cock drag along Mikey’s insides. 

“That’s - ” Calum’s words get tangled in his mouth as Mikey drops down from where he was halfway up his cock. Mikey raises his hips up higher, until just the head of Calum’s cock is inside him, then sinks all the way back down, his sweet little mouth falling open on a moan. 

For a moment neither of them move, but then Calum’s rushing forward to get his lips on Mikeys, and Mikey’s lifting his hips to chase the feeling again. It continues, Mikey’s movements changing slightly each time until Calum gets a good grip on his lower back, pulling him forward slightly as he drops, and Mikey gasps something filthy and broken. If Calum had to guess, based on the familiarity of the sound, he’d say Mikey’s found his prostate. 

“Oh  _ god _ ,” Mikey wails, throwing his head back as he starts to move faster and faster, working himself into a rhythm, “f-feels so good… feels – ”

His words are cut off by a cry when he slams himself down harder than before, Calum’s hips jumping up as he does. He groans and watches Mikey fuck himself on his cock, how hot he looks working for his pleasure. His eyes are shut tightly in concentration, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he uses his strong thighs to raise and lower himself over and over again. He can go like this for a while, it looks like, no sign of his stamina leaving him. 

“Could - ” Mikey’s words are stolen along with his breath as Calum thrusts up once. When he opens his mouth to speak again all that comes out is a low “ _ Yes _ .” 

They move in tandem then, both of their bodies working together in perfect synchrony like they were made for each other - because they  _ were _ \- chasing their highs together. Mikey leans further into Calum’s chest and Calum fucks his hips hard into Mikey, wanting nothing more than for this to last forever, but knowing that it couldn’t possibly with how fucking  _ good  _ it is. 

When Calum feels himself approaching the edge, he whispers pleas into Mikey’s skin, his hand reaching down, wrapping around Mikey’s swollen cock, and pumping. It takes a moment to get him there, but then Mikey’s crying out, burying his face in Calum’s chest, and releasing onto his stomach. His tired body falls boneless between them, so Calum wraps his arm around Mikey’s back and thrust up  _ once, twice  _ before coming into the condom. 

They lie in silence together before the feeling of his cum dripping down the condom and pooling around the base of his dick gets too uncomfortable to tolerate. He lifts a boneless Mikey off of him, slipping out completely, before sitting him down just on the other side of his cock, pulling the soiled condom off and dropping it on the floor, promising to clean it up later. 

“That was so fucking good, Calum,” Mikey murmurs into Calum’s skin. “Mm,  _ Calum _ .” 

Calum watches Mikey’s flutter closed and can’t help but laugh silently, thinking about how  _ three fucking years _ went by and Mikey thought his biological name was Scooter the entire goddamn time. What had him so furious earlier is aboutsultely stupid in the most amusing way now. He looks down at his soulmate in his lap, pale skin standing out so nicely against Calum’s tan, emphasizing just how perfect they are, how perfect they’ve always been together. 

“My name’s Calum, nice to meet you,” he says with a grin when he finally catches his breath from their exertion. 

Mikey doesn’t even look bothered only laughs, cuddling deeper into Calum’s chest, letting Calum’s hand drift to his ass and mindlessly rub his thumb over the space his name is written. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?” 

“No fucking way, man,” Calum answers. “You’re the new Village Idiot.” 

Part of Calum wants to still be upset over Mikey’s complete ignorance to his real name, but having his best friend, his forever, wrapped in his arms, Calum can’t help but feel like things worked out exactly how they were meant to. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! And if you'd be interested in a fic from Lashton's POV on everything. 
> 
> [Come talk to me on Tumblr!](http://fourdrunksluts.tumblr.com)


End file.
